Possibility
by Marie1063
Summary: The group is back together and have coordinated with the other colonies to fight Negan. Carol joins in on the fight to protect Daryl, but won't admit it. They try to put their plan into action, and things go bad. Set to happen almost right after the Season 7 mid-season premiere.
1. Hometown Glory

The air was beginning to turn bitter, while the cloud filled skies emerged darkened off in the distance of the Hilltop. Daryl was waiting close by the immense wooden gate, leaning against a beaten-up station wagon, gnawing at the skin on his thumb raw.

A dull ache still rang through his right shoulder, the only remaining physical reminder of the Sanctuary. Didn't need any scars to help him remember though, he was back there most nights when he closed his eyes, waking up in a cold sweat, shaking. Sometimes he wasn't sure whether he'd been screaming before launching his eyes open, and Carol never told him. Never uttered a single word, only unburdened him with delicate finger strokes across his temples, non-descript shushing noises drumming in the background as her warm body lay next to his.

She understood what it was like to have your past haunt you. They didn't need to talk, but she wouldn't, _couldn't_ , leave him in his own private personal hell.

They'd always looked out for each other, but now he couldn't even do that. Stuck behind walls or tucked away, out of sight from the Saviors to prevent potential backlash. But plans still had to be made if they were going to fight back against Negan.

He knew he didn't like this plan at all. Something about it just seemed off; it was nothing to do with her, he knew she could survive out there, but would she mentally survive doing something that was slowly killing her soul? And then there was Negan. He was the ever-present, demoniac threat that could slaughter an entire town for sneezing in his presence.

A gust of chilled wind brushed over his exposed forearms, creating goosebumps over his usually over-warm body.

"You got the map?" Daryl heard Jesus ask, exiting out of Barrington house while throwing his long leather jacket over a puffed hiker's jacket.

"Map, water, ammo," Carol countered.

Daryl lifted his head, beholding the sight behind him. She looked nothing like the Carol that she was battling on the inside. Green cargo pants tucked into her calf-high combat boots, her Bowie knife sheathed hanging off the side of her hip, a burgundy combat jacket buttoned up tight underneath the heavy, black armored vest, with a grey scarf wrapped close under her chin. Walking down the hill she reached behind her back to pull out a Glock, dropped open the magazine inspecting it, slamming it back into place with the palm of her hand before cocking it. She was good at pretending, being whoever she thought she needed to be in a given situation, but Daryl was anxious that all her bravado wouldn't cover for the loss of her killer instinct. Rick had told him about the letter she left before he had found her, and she had told him herself as much. All the killing was killing her.

"Hey, you come to see me off? Or trying to stow away in the trunk..?" Carol smiled at him softly, her eyes sincere but still saddened.

"Naw," he mumbled lowly, dropping his gaze briefly before looking back up to her. Glancing at Jesus before continuing, "This don't feel right, shouldn't be goin' out there. Ya shouldn't be goin' out there like this."

"Storm should hold off until we get back," Jesus began before being quickly interrupted.

"Ain't what I was talkin' bout," he stared into him. Carol looked over at Jesus, asking him with her eyes to give them a minute, understanding immediately, he went to find Maggie atop the wall look-out.

"Daryl, it's just a scouting run. Goin' out to check this place out, see if we can use it or make sure Negan isn't. It's just recon, we can't take the chance of bein' surprised." She looks calmly at him, trying to impart the feeling between them.

"And what if ya run into some Saviors, what then? They ain't gonna just forget they seen you. Not gonna just let you leave," memories obviously drawing pain into his voice, almost emitting a slim tremor.

Carol tilted her head forward while inhaling deeply, "Then we'll deal with it...not like I haven't had to before..."

"Shouldn't have to, not with what it costs ya." his voice full of empathy. There was no point he thought, to her saving everyone again just to lose her as a result. Daryl rolled his sore shoulder, rubbing just above the collarbone with his fingertips.

Shock rose from his eyes as Carol reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder, kneading the heel of her palm into the front, while drawing upwards with her fingers along the back. They hadn't had much physical contact since finding her near the Kingdom, except for the nights she quieted away his nightmares.

"I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about it, but some things are more important than yourself," she quietly uttered, looking down at the earth below. Daryl lowered a hand onto her outstretched arm, gripping lightly above her slender wrist. She watched him intently while breathing deeply a few times, fingers now tracing down his elbow to circle the inside of his arm. "Some things are worth protecting."

Their gaze never averted from each other, almost completely missing an approaching Jesus from the guard tower. As Daryl ducked into an embarrassed grin, Carol smirked widely.

"Plus, nothins' going to happen to me, not when I've placed myself in Jesus's hands."

Daryl playfully jabbed at her with an elbow as Jesus walked around to stand next to the driver's side door. "We should go,"

She nodded, lazily dragging her touch away from Daryl's arm, walking around to open the passenger side, briefly smiling again before sliding into the car. "Nine lives, remember?"

Maggie called for the gates to be opened, the car's engine turning over as he stepped a few steps back. The station wagon pulled out, heading down the little straight away road from them. He watched as it became an indistinguishable speck in the distance, darkened clouds growing larger, a floating crisp wind beginning to swirl in the air.

* * *

They had been driving for almost ten minutes in complete silence. Carol placed an elbow against the window, staring out at the passing deserted landscape. She could feel Jesus passing her looks every so often, when he really should be watching the road, almost starting to speak but never following through. It's exactly what she disliked about being around the Kingdom, always being watched even when all she wanted was to be left alone. No one seemed to be able to grasp the concept.

"You gonna say whatever it is you've been wanting to, or just drive off the road now and get it over with?" she deadpanned, still looking out the window.

Amused, Jesus laughed silently before glancing over in her direction. "Does Daryl know?"

Carol whirled around in her seat towards him, "Know what..?"

"It's pretty obvious...at least on his end," he acknowledged, turning back to the road before continuing. "From what I've seen, he's been through a lot of shit, and most of the time he doesn't deal with it. Most of the time he lashes out in anger or completely shuts down. He's got this wall built, he won't let anyone in, not even Rick. But then there's you,"

"We're just friends, we get each other." blankly answering. She didn't need people in her business, and certainly wasn't going to expose Daryl, he'd been through enough. Prying open the glove compartment to find some sort of distraction, she found a black fabric case containing a multitude of numbered CDs.

"Not with the way he looks at you. The way his shoulders relax when he sees you, how he remembers how to feel emotions around you, that's more than even Rick and Michonne. You may want to pretend it's not because you said you can't kill for people anymore, but then what ARE you doing out here, taking on Negan, right after what he did to Daryl?"

Furrowing her brow, she grabbed the disc labeled number two and shoved it into the player in the dash. "You'll see, when they find out what happens to people who don't leave me and the people I love alone."

The brief silence was filled by Tina Turner echoing through the car.

 _You must understand though the touch of your hand, makes my pulse react. That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl, opposites attract._

Jesus locked eyes with Carol as he tried arduously to hold back a smile, she slammed her hand against the eject button, cupping her face with the other as they both began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Now I know what to have them play at your wedding," he teased regaining his breath.

* * *

The car pulled up outside what looked like it used to be an office building complex, now run down and covered in overgrown shrubs and climbing vines, chain-link fences pointlessly guarding from the sides around the back.

Someone at some point had dumped numerous cars all around. There was no sound, no signs of people or walkers. As they climb out of the car, Jesus peers at the darkening skies threatening to open, being startled by Carol banging on the hood of a rusted car a few times. If there were any walkers around the perimeter, they would know by now.

She moves to stand in front of the chain fence, looking around, over, and through it. "Should probably start from the back, second floor if we can get there, then sweep forward towards the front door. That way we don't get surprised half-way through with no way out."

He was about to offer to climb atop the fence, help her over, before she was already halfway up the fence. Her feet swung up to find the ledge under a first story window, pushing her body high enough to grab the top of the fence, then pulling herself up and over. Landing with a soft cushion in her legs, she turned to look over at the man on the opposite side of the fence. Jesus stared at her stunned, then letting a smirk cross his lips as he shook his head before scaling the fence himself. This could be fun.

They moved an adjacent dumpster under a smashed-in second story window. Jesus leaped up and climbed in, leaning a hand back down to support Carol's ascent. The room was picked over, covered in strewn papers, Carol unlatched her knife from its sheath and grasped her fingers through the three grips on the handle. Jesus moved to the closed door, grabbing the handle with one hand, silently counting before swinging it open. The hall was equally deserted.

Four more offices cleared like the first one. Their movements now fluid as they approached the final room.

Walkers groaned as they tumbled from the opened doorway; Carol plunged her knife to the hilt into one's temple, scattering brain matter as it swung up into the chin of another. Jesus grappled onto the shirt of the oncoming, tumbling creep, pivoting its face into pieces against the wall. One approached feet behind his left shoulder, threatening to sink into his arm. She jammed her left heel into the outside of its knee, buckling the walker backward onto her knife at the base of its neck.

She stepped over the pile of bodies, wiping the blade on the side of her pants. Jesus scoffed lightly, "This is you not wanting to kill?...Damn."

This didn't matter. These things weren't people, not anymore.

They made their way to the stairwell, through the main front entrance, taking stock of every detail in case of a quick exit. All the furniture seemed to be missing, odd but not out of place. Could have been scavenged by others. The metal stairway doors were heavy, closed off any airflow to the outside which trapped the rank smell of death around them.

Carol pulled open the door while Jesus guarded it. Again the hallway was empty. She pulled the door all the way back as they passed through, but stopping as they heard a faint metallic sound while the door swung closed with a loud thud. Jesus turned to try the handle, but it was locked. Growling and moans came from the end of the hall, nearly fifteen walkers emerged stumbling towards them. Each tried to open opposing doors but neither successful.

Carol groaned, "Fuck this,"

Reaching for the Glock in the back of her waistband, she began picking them off one by one. She'd spent half of the clip when she was dragged through a small crack in a doorway by Jesus.

The room she'd tumbled into contained part of the missing furniture, piled up against the door they had just squeezed through. She turned her head back to Jesus as she retrieved her gun, he was moving quickly around a large window with his hands gliding along the frame. Before she had a chance to speak, he had grabbed the mid-sized chair along the wall and flung it through the window.

"We can make it to that car over there, once we get over the fence we should be good."

She looked to the ground below. Numerous walkers had massed, from the back end of the lot as far as she could tell, probably drawn by her gunfire or the crashing glass.

"There's no way we'll both make it. You should go, get some help from Hilltop," she reasoned.

"I'm not leaving you behind, Daryl will kill me. Either we both go or neither of us go."

"If you don't go we'll probably die, if we both go we'll probably die!" she snapped.

She stared at him, not backing down. Finally, he subsided with a deep exhale, turning into the open window frame and placing a hand on the edge. "Stay here..."

Jesus propelled himself forward out the window, tucking into a roll as he hit the top car roof. He sprung up seconds later, continuing his momentum towards part of the fence, leaping fully outstretched. The sound of a single shot rang out, a corpse dropped from the edge of the car as Jesus leapt over it. He scaled the fence and ducked into their station wagon. Carol watched as the car skidded in a semi-circle, turning back towards the Hilltop. The wind blew across her face, the chill sent shivers through her body; she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to block out the bleak condition she found herself in.


	2. Eye of the Storm

She twisted the tip of her knife into the splintering wood of a toppled desk. Her hands seized slightly from the biting air temperature, flexing them open and closed, trying to drive blood flow and feeling back into them. A dark, reddish brown smear in the creases of her hand caught her attention, familiar and haunting. Her heart beat faster as she instinctively rubbed the blood along the top of her thigh. People were coming, coming to save her, and someone would probably die. Her vision tunneled back on her palm, still slightly tinged copper.

It wasn't going to happen again, she wouldn't let someone die because of her. She had to try.

Carol pressed back from the desk, diving into the drawers to find anything she could use. Piles of office supplies tumbled onto the floor; pens, papers and folders, books, a stapler, and magnetized container of paper clips. She grabbed the last object, holding it tightly as she focused on a partially shielded door behind a wedged filing cabinet.

 _Daryl was behind her, crouched over her right shoulder, watching intently what she was doing. She was staring into the lock of their prison cell, unbound paper clips in each hand as she fiddled them inside the lock. A short grunt escaped him behind her as his hands came forward over top hers, fingers lightly landing on the tips of hers. She looked over her shoulder at him as he guided one of her hands in a twist, a metallic click echoed._

She crossed to the blocked door, shifting the barricade to begin working on the lock. A minute later she heard it click, smiling to herself. The smaller, contained back office offered no assistance, being stripped bare like so many others, except for a large, broken, anterior window. Upon inspection she found below a long passageway behind the building, vacated by the walkers drawn by Jesus earlier. A drainage pipe ran from roof down fairly close to the asphalt below. It seemed like she was going to be playing ninja after all.

Carol clenched her thighs around the pvc piping, trying to give her upper body as much of a break as she could, lowering herself gradually towards the ground. Her bones ached from the growing chill of her body, made notably worse by the close contact of the frozen plastic.

The end of her extrication was further from the ground than she'd guessed. About seven feet between the end of the pipe and freedom, her grip caving in to fatigue. She had little time before it gave way, sliding down ahead of dropping through the air to topple onto the ground. Evaluating herself, she could only find a twisted ankle, nothing that she couldn't deal with.

Her brain switched to autopilot; she drew her gun, making slow, tactical moves forward with her back to the building, scanning every direction over every few seconds. Her breathing deepened, trying to slow the beating in her chest. The sounds behind of walkers began to trail off the further ahead she went, the thought she may make it out front finally crosses her mind. Her peace is silenced by the sharp sound of a shuffle, she whips her draw around to a drop in her stomach, the unmistakable nudge of a gun muzzle at the back of her skull.

"Ah ah ah.., put it down." a man gleams, stepping out from around the corner.

He was a stocky man, short dirty blonde hair and stubble, a heavy brow, and a square shaped head; he reminded her of Ed. The way he was glaring at her up and down as she turned was reminiscent of that son of a bitch.

"Please, don't hurt me...the people I was with, we ran into those monsters...they, they just left me. I don't even know how to-" meekness Carol pulled out from her previous self, intentionally fumbling with her gun in hand as it lowered to an extent. She let herself begin to shiver.

The man bore into her and down the length of her body, stepping uncomfortably close, eventually bringing a hand along her upper arm. "Shh, don't worry darlin'. I'm sure we can work somethin' out. Negan is a very reasonable man...if you ask nice,"

If she hadn't already decided, the mention of that name had sealed his fate. She tilted the Glock upwards, firing a round into his gut. He moved back slowly, same reaction time as Ed, grabbing at his wound. Before he thought to raise his gun, Carol's Bowie whirled through the side of his head. The pool of bright red blood seeping from the dead man's wounds gnawed in Carol's stomach.

Without warning, a gaunt man with straggly blonde hair came into view, aiming a crossbow at her, wearing a leather vest that wrenched at the fabric of her heart. She recognized Dwight, had seen him before at the Kingdom when he came to offer help; she raised her gun on him though, knew what he had done to Daryl. Obvious recognition came across Dwight's face at her presence, slightly lowering his shoulders before two more armed men came to his side, trained on Carol. Dwight ordered her to drop her weapons, the bravado in his voice only served to amplify her disdain for him. One of the other Saviors moved towards her, but Dwight jumped in front of him to grab Carol's gun and slam the butt of the crossbow against her knife. He barked at the others, grabbing her by the back of the vest and dragging her folded frame around the corner of the passageway.

"Go check that there's nobody with her!"

The next thing Carol knew, she was pushed through a hole cut in the fence and into as open field next to the building. Large, white box trucks sat at the edge, six or more Saviors stood watching her. Pushed forward, she landed on all fours. Stinging pain thundered up her wrist.

A booming voice came from the trucks.

"Well well D, what kind of presents are ya bringin' me today?" A dark haired man in a black, leather jacket twirled a barbed-wire bat, ambled towards them.

Carol looked up at Negan; he had to be, how many other psychotics with a bat like that? Her mind raced, remembering how to interact with a volatile man; control your emotions, don't stare, speak only when spoken to, don't contradict. But these people had killed Glenn, Abraham, Denise, they had shot and tortured Daryl. She could feel the anger rising in her chest, almost causing her heart to vibrate.

"Damn, this IS definitely an improvement! Goin' from a bleedin', jacked up redneck to a fucking silver haired, warrior princess!" Negan almost bounced with excitement. Carol bit her tongue at his mention of Daryl, but her eyes betrayed her, shooting daggers in their direction. Dwight dropped his eyes, refusing to look at her. Negan's smile went thin, eyes brighter as a finger bounced between his soldier and the captive. "Am I missin' somethin' here?"

The two Savior men came past the corner into the field, one of them carrying Carol's knife and handgun.

"Boss?"

"Do NOT interrupt me in front of company!" He sneered at his men, lingering a minute before turning his attentions to Dwight. "D...you wanna enlighten me as to who our FINE friend is?"

Carol refrained from looking at him.

"Her name's Carol. Ran into her with Daryl out on the road before I came back." Better to incorporate part of the truth in his lie, more likely to save his own ass.

Staring at her, he let out a howling laugh, turning around twice with sizable thrusting of his hips. "You have GOT to be shittin' me. Well crimp my balls and call me Nancy, that little family of yours just can't get 'nough of me." He squatted down next to where she sat on her heels, "Hi Carol, I'm Negan..but y'already knew that, didn't you?" giving a perverted, full-teeth smile.

Negan pressed up into a full stance, addressing Dwight and his other men. "Where the fuck is Davey, that son of a bitch touchin' himself in the corner somewhere?"

"Davey's dead, that bitch took him out with these" the man said, handing over Carol's weapons.

He examined both weapons, tucking the Glock under his belt while spinning the knife between his hands, gliding his fingers over the three grip handle. "Carol...killing my men...I would have thought Rick would have told you how TOTALLY NOT COOL that shit is."

Carol was trying to shut down her emotions, to go somewhere else in her mind. Anything to not give the bastard anything, to not let him win.

He motioned to Dwight to get Carol on her feet. She abruptly shrugged her arm away at the end of being snapped up.

"Now there's only one reason I can think of for you to hate my boy D here so much, and be runnin' round like mother fuckin' Rambo out here. Tell me if I'm getting close..." he dropped his head next to her ear and quieted his voice to a whisper. "Daryl plowin ya?" He pulled his head back far enough to look at her eyes, which simmered with fury behind locked gates.

"Ooh no, don't go doin' that. Lookin' at me like that hasn't gone well for your pal Rick or your boyfriend. I get it, I bashed the wholly fuck out of Red and that Asian kid, then had the audacity to make Daryl my bitch. But what you've gotta wrap your pretty little head 'round is...THERE, ARE, RULES. Daryl couldn't understand, and apparently you're just as stupid as he is, or just as much of a bad ass." Negan backed away a few feet, swung Lucille over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Carol, who had never looked down. He now began motioning and pointing with Lucille.

"So WHAT to do with you? Can't pack you up and take ya back to Rick..he don't appreciate me takin' care of his people, and you DID kill Davey. Could just bash your brains in here..but somethin' tells me you're special. You wouldn't think of switching teams? I know Daryl's probably screwin' your brains out, but I'm most definitely certain I could make it worth your while." Lucille lightly dragged down her cheek. She broke every rule she ever had, staring vehemently at him with obvious defiance.

Negan sucked loudly on his teeth, returning her penetrating stare, when he agitatedly gave a short bounce in place before smiling as he pointed at her.

"I've got it, take your shit off."

Carol looked bewildered as Dwight scanned the situation confused. He was as lost as she was, but knew much more all the possible horrors. Her breath hitched briefly, but she didn't move. Negan moved back in slowly, this time with a dead, empty expression full of fury she had seen many times in her past. Rain began to fall from the frigid sky.

"Carol..that WASN'T a request."


	3. Run

The knot in her stomach wrenched, tightening with each passing moment of admonished stillness, as if it were secured to the lump in her throat and twisting amongst her insides. There was nothing she could do to prevent what was about to happen. Begging wouldn't change his mind; men like him saw any sign of compassion as weakness, something to be manipulated for their own personal enjoyment. Defiance would only serve to either get her wiped out faster, or prolong her torture, only to see reprisal brought to those she cares most about. She was stuck in a hideous state of limbo, she was out of options.

Dwight descended upon her, grabbing at the jacket under her vest again.

 _She could feel Ed's bulky hands latching on around her shoulders, slamming her into the wall. His oppressive breath showering down her face from above her head, the mercenary flicker in his eyes as he contemplated how he would torture her._

She jerked her arm forward out of Dwight's grasp before swaying it backwards, her elbow connecting with a thud against the side of his nose. A look of shock followed by outrage swept across him, something she was sure Daryl had seen too many times.

"Dwight, s'okay." Negan signaled with a raised hand, his hair now damp from the rain and slicked against his skull. He cocked his head sideways looking at her, before sauntering towards her, dropping his arm perpendicular to himself with his palm tilted upwards. "Interesting...you'll have to excuse Dwighty boy there, he seems to think that everything of Daryl's belongs to him. Kinda like some creepy as shit fanboy. Not ta mention he hasn't had a good fuck in a goddamn long while, on account of losing his smoking hot wife to me,"

Dwight shot a glance up at him, before concealing his resentment down at the ground.

"Now we're all civilized human beings here, but some of us are making some pretty stupid decisions, so let's try this again...Arat," Negan's arm swooped down and snatched the Glock from his belt, aiming it at Carol's head.

A woman with medium length, brown, curly hair with the ends a brassy blonde, stepped forward from the line by the trucks. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun atop her head, which made it look as though part of her hair wasn't real, but the AK 47 hanging from across her shoulder drew all the attention. She advanced to rest in front of Carol, her expression blank and un-moving. With little or no humaneness, Arat seized Carol's shoulder closest within reach and jerked her into an almost ninety-degree turn, exposing the buckles of her vest. She quickly unfastened them, slumping the armor down Carol's chest, flipping it unceremoniously over her head to the dirt. Negan picked it up, examining it closely. Carol's eyes fixed on the muzzle of the gun, while Arat got rid of her scarf and jacket.

"Would you looky here, I do believe I know some fine people who have ones just like this. You wouldn't be goin' back and forth between Rick and my boy king Zeke, would ya?"

Negan gave his sick smile. _The same smile Ed always gave her._ She steadied her voice in her chest before releasing it into the world.

"I get around."

His smirk lengthened as he considered Carol, now only in her khakis and tank top, at the mercy of the increasing winds and amplifying rain. The scars along her body now entirely visible and illuminated by reflecting moisture, all in various stages of healing.

"Shit, I knew that I liked you! You just TAKE a lickin' and KEEP ON ticking, no regard for the fucking hell that will most CERTAINLY come down on your pretty little head. Now you ain't as fouled up as Daryl...well not now, after he was my guest,"

Carol couldn't take the repeated jabs anymore. There was no way she was going to make it out of this place alive, probably best to just engage the fucker for however long her decided to toy with her. Maybe he'd slip up enough for her to do some damage before she finally went cold. All the anger she'd held in for weeks erupted out of the barricades in her eyes.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Mmm, there's that Grimes trained fucking attitude. Jesus, does he give a newcomers orientation on that shit? Have to give the man credit, must've done somethin' right to get all these bad ass people willing to die for him." Negan lowered his voice, slowing his cadence. "Well, back to the task at hand. Arat... give me your weapons and jacket,"

The woman's confusion questioned his request, only for a second, before handing over the assault rifle as well as a few others ahead of un-zipping her jacket. Goosebumps immediately raised from her newly exposed skin at the drastic change in air temperature.

"I'm going to give you a most awesome opportunity, Carol. Now it may not be what you were hopin' for, but being the gentleman that I am, I'm not in the practice of being with a woman who doesn't want to be with me... shocking, I know. But since Daryl's magical dick has somehow ruined you for all other men, we'll go to the next best thing. You're gonna fight Arat; MONO E BAD ASS, whoever's still alive at the end gets to live."

Negan made a sound like an excited school boy as he turned and briskly headed to one of the trucks, stopping by Dwight to raise his arms with the crossbow at Carol's head. Coming back from the main cab of one of the trucks, he held a video camera, bearing resemblance to the one she'd seen when she'd first arrived in Alexandria. Negan flipped the side view open and focused on the scene he had created.

"This shit is gonna be so much better than mud wrestlin' back in the day. Rick does owe me a little freaky deaky," he zoomed in on Carol's now drenched physique, "Daryl must be an ass man. Not that I'm knocking your exceptional tits but," the camera swung down to behind her lower half. "Damn ... just sayin'."

She wasn't certain which direction she should be focusing her attention, in all reality a strike could come from anyone, any direction. While her view scanned over to Negan, standing next to Dwight, Arat surprised her with a right hook across her face. Still in shock, Carol swayed to face her attacker, another hit collided causing her to fall to the ground.

 _The first time Ed had sent her to the hospital, he had beaten her unconscious. Pummeling blows showering down on her, for something trivial, she couldn't remember. His first hit landed on her right eye, leaving a black eye that lasted for weeks, the second broke her nose. The others she couldn't remember the number or their placement, only waking up in the hospital and the pain telling her what had happened._

Her senses came back to reality with the sickening thud of a boot crushing into her ribs. The burning, heated pain shoots to every place of her chest; Carol succumbs to the culmination of years of battling for her life, for that of those she would die to protect.

Arat's leg veered for her once again, Carol curled onto her side and grabbed hold of the woman's ankle, twisting as she yanked back to herself. With Arat flattened on her back Carol crawled over her and began battering her with both fists, instantly swelling from contact against bone. There was blood coming from somewhere, wasn't sure which of theirs it was as the steady rain washed everything together. The bottom of Arat's boot planted firmly upon her hip, driving into her body propelling her three feet backward.

Partially frozen terrain thundered against the back of her skull, throbbing pain encircled it and her sense of balance swam violently. Carol's vision was still blurry, barely able to make out Arat seeking anchorage around her neck. With every faculty she had left she clawed back against the aggressor's tanned skin, digging in her nails sharply. Arat let out an annoyed yelp before backing up to hammer her boot back into Carol's gut.

She gasped for air that never seemed to fill her lungs, huddled in the fetal position.

Arat sputtered a mouthful of bright red blood to the ground, breathing heavily as she wiped at her mouth. Her foot whipped through the air, slowing slightly only as is connected with Carol's face, spinning her into a heap on her back. As it returned on it's back swing, the boot dropped anchor surely on Carol's left collar bone; shattering bone echoed along with a sound like a cry from a wounded animal.

 _She heard Daryl moving beside her. Lightly thrashing, fighting whatever was haunting him in his sleep. The torture within his soul twisted his face, anxious vocalizations escaping him into the darkness._

"Fucking bitch," Arat spat lowly.

Carol rolled back and forth within the intense pain gripping her entire left side, stifling the urge to scream monotonously. Negan crowed from the sidelines, still manning the camera.

"Oh damn, that's GOTTA hurt!" He wandered next to her and squatted down to get closer to her face, Arat circling on the perimeter.

"Come on, ya gotta give me the inside scoop, what was that on your getting your ass handed to you scale? You've got 'nough fucking badges coverin' ya. I'm sure Rick and Daryl will find this real interesting," he turned the camera lens to face himself. "I'm just havin' the BEST time!"

Carol dismissed Negan, focusing all her energy on digging past the pain, the cold, the fatigue, and ending this once and for all. Her shoulder slumps forward, useless in her endeavors; using the fiery spasms to push herself up level with the Saviors. Her eyes trained on a now stilled Arat,

"That's queen bitch to you."

In a full sprint she ran at the bloodied woman, launching herself at her midsection with all the strength she could summon. They topple together in a clump; Carol unwilling to let herself feel any of messages her body is trying to relay. Her good arm lands a blow to Arat's mouth, taking along a few teeth, she then palms the woman's forehead and slams her skull into the ground. With a guttural growl Arat reaches her hands again around Carol's neck, this time finding promise and tightening in a vice grip.

She attempted to dislodge her, giving a few sharp jabs above the right kidney, but Arat's cinch didn't falter. Carol can feel her lungs begin to burn now, the eagerness for oxygen setting off alarm bells in her consciousness. She hears herself let out a rasping cry as she stabs her right thumb into corner of Arat's eye, pushing as if her life depended upon it.

When Arat releases, screaming from the pain and blood flowing from her face, Carol snatches back her mobile hand and sends it searching into leg pocket of her khakis. Her fingers find the sharpened crucifix tucked at the bottom, dragging with an unwavering grip to crispness of the damp air for a moment before spearing the corner of Arat's neck. Their eyes met; Carol slashed across up to the other side of her jaw.

 _The weight of the pick-axe surged descending towards Ed's motionless corpse. Bits of bone and flesh sprayed as she repeatedly pounded away years of anger, fear, and sadness._

Someone else's blood covers the anterior of her body from head to toe, her body gives way to weariness, slumping down onto itself before hitting soil below. There's a body beside her with a crude one inch gaping neck wound. She's breathing, she has to be and knows she is, but she can't get any air.

"And THAT my friends is how it's FUCKING DONE." Negan clamored excitedly, finally letting the camera's focus drop. He walks over to one of his men and exchanges the device for Lucille.

"Well I guess that means I've gotta let you go...though you don't seem in no shit state to be goin' nowhere fast. Maybe I should just put you outta your misery; I mean you did kill, what two...TWO of my people, AND you broke the rules by havin' a 'weapon'! And we ALL know what a stickler Lucille is for the rules," He raises Lucille inches over Carol's head.

The metal chain-link crashed with ferocity and demonic growling. Broken through where the passageway was made, a hoard of walkers lumber into the open field. Dwight lets a quiver fly, taking one out above the eye, before Negan halts his men and signals them to the trucks.

"Seems to be your lucky day Carol, the universe is holdin' me to a man of my word. We'll just be hittin' the road now...you okay to clean all this up? I got people to see, pretty sure there's some people who would be just DYIN' to screen this little show." He bends down to stiffly pat her wounded shoulder twice, letting out his sick smile. "Let's roll,"

Negan swings Lucille over his shoulder once again as he sauntered to a running truck, Dwight stared at Carol laying on the ground, heaving for breath, as the ravenous hoard of the dead inched closer. His face blank in disbelief.

Negan slapped the top of the door from inside, running his other hand through his soaking wet hair.

"Fuck, it's freezing out here."


	4. Dream

**Some Daryl time, less yapping from Negan. Also more feelings than violence in this chapter.**

The wind rustled through Daryl's hair enough to sweep it from his eyes, the frigid air rolling in the assemblage of heavy, darkened clouds. He looked out at the empty road that twisted into the trees; had been empty for a while, too long he thought.

The knot in the pit of his stomach twisted, been twisting since he let her get in the car; he should have found some way to stop her or make her let him go with them. Jesus may have gotten into the Sanctuary to help him escape, but he damn sure didn't trust him to keep Carol safe. She might be pretending for everyone else but he knew she wasn't right, wasn't ready to face the world again, let alone the Saviors. Daryl gnawed his bottom lip knowing why she'd put herself out there against any reasonable judgement, taking on the risk. She went to protect him.

 _"I don't wanna talk 'bout it." he mumbled into her shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her. She had seen the horror behind his eyes; the fading bruises and new scars across his face. The silence in the darkness of her small, run down house outside the Kingdom was deafening. She drew him in tighter with her arms around his neck, her head tucking into the crook of his; he felt tears follow the curve of her cheeks, landing amongst his hair as she whispered that she never should have left._

Daryl ducked his head and placed his hands on the wooden posts of the lookout, the guilt catching his breath in his lungs. Screw it, he was going after her.

They wouldn't have gone far, he had seen the map of the area where they were heading and it would be easy to track the car from there. Turning abruptly, he almost skated down the ladder, quickly heading towards his motorcycle; would be loud but it would be better in the need for a hasty getaway. He inspected the bike briefly, turning his attention to the weapons shed a few yards behind the gate.

"Daryl," Rick called, already approaching swiftly.

He looked to acknowledge him but continued in his motions, swinging open the shed door and snagging a Beretta and a shotgun. The ache in his shoulder roared out as he lifted the shotgun's strap over himself, pausing for just a moment to recognize and store away the discomfort; he didn't have time for his pain, she was fighting through her's...

"What are you doin'?" Rick questioned, concern in his eyes that his brother may have finally snapped. He positioned himself between Daryl and the bike.

"Goin' after 'em, somethin' ain't right." His good shoulder glancing into the meat of Rick's chest as he passed by. A hand landed firmly on his forearm, applying pressure without giving into restraint.

"Hey, give 'em a little more time. It hasn't been that long...if they're not back soon I'll go lookin', I promise. Jesus knows what he's doin' and Carol's a fo-"

"She's not the same," Daryl sharply interrupted in a low tone, enough to stagger Rick's glance. "You read the letter she left, it say everythin' you said it did?"

His friend glowered at his feet, stature bending a little under the truth; Rick had to believe what Carol told him after the Kingdom. He couldn't afford to see reality behind the facade, his family's lives depended on it.

"She's doin' what she has to do. We don't have a choice anymore if we want to protect people...people we care about."

Suppressed anger billowed out from the depths of him, "She's torturing herself! You don't know what it's like ta blame yourself so much for somethin', that you believe ya deserve everythin' that's happenin' to you. To hate yourself so much you're willin' to let yourself burn from the inside..." Daryl paced in circles, emotions swelling behind his blue eyes. "Carol's done 'nough for everyone here, hell she's saved all our ass's all by herself more than once, and you're tellin' me you're OK with this? If she does this...she may come back on the outside but she's gonna be dead on the inside. Y'already sent her out for dead once, I ain't lettin' it happen' again."

His breathing was heavy, Rick stood stilled from what had just transpired. They hadn't talked more about what had happened at the prison until now, but it was obvious from what his friend had said that he may have forgiven him, but he'd never forget. Daryl let go of Rick's regard, turning towards his bike, tucking the pistol in his jeans' waistband. Rain began to gently fall from the charcoal sky.

"Look, I know y-" Rick started once more, regaining his composure before being broken off by the yelling of one of the other guards on duty.

"We've got someone coming in hot,"

Both men immediately ran up the tower; whatever was going on between them would have to wait. There was a car accelerating decisively in the direction of the Hilltop, Daryl instantly recognized it as the station wagon Carol and Jesus left in. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rick let out a small smile and sigh, but Daryl fixated on the automobile; something was wrong, it was going too fast. A shiver ran up the entirety of his body, commanding recurrently as he flew down the ladder.

"Open the gate...open the gate-"

The repeated utterance alerted Rick to the trouble as he ceased breathing before seconding Daryl's calls, himself rushing to the doors. Up at Barrington house, Maggie stepped out the doors, signaled by the commotion.

The large wooden doors creaked open inwards; the wagon already stopped before them, reaching the obstacle well before. The sight caused Daryl's heart to drop and air escaped him; Jesus stood alone with patches of blood and dirt over him, his gaze serious and concerned.

"We've got a problem..."

"Where is she?" Rick managed to stutter out.

 _Nine lives, remember?_

* * *

The outside world silenced around him, only snippets of what was being said registered as his vision stared at nothing. Cars scattered everywhere, the building having been ransacked, walkers, furniture blocking exits; Daryl's mind responded to that statement in a flurry, the dead don't set up barricades.

Rick was saying something to Maggie, who had made her way down to the assemblage along with Michonne. They all seemed to be moving in a fog, like time wasn't slipping away from them to save Carol; he wanted to scream at them but his body was locked in a standstill. Jesus renewed that doors had been rigged to open others after closing them in. Daryl's temperature rose as his heart thudded loud in his ears; had he heard him correctly, his worst fear realized of them walking into a trap? There was no doubt now for him, Negan was involved somehow.

 _His naked body splayed across the freezing cement floor, jolting at every footstep, every clink of metal. His body ached from the beatings, his mind screamed for sleep that would never come; always to be interrupted by that song. The sliver of light from underneath the door paralleled a sunrise he was convinced he'd never see again._

"We both couldn't make it out that way safely, so I left her-" Jesus recounted in the background of Daryl's detection.

Every muscle clenched and quivered with rage, his mind raced as he saw red; before he grasped what was happening his fist connected with Jesus's chin, stopping the man mid-sentence. He stood over the dimly cloaked man and growled vehemently.

"You left her?" Michonne jumped on him to pull him back, aided by Rick after turning him back a few inches. "Knowin' that someone set that place up ta tear people apart, knowin' who's out there and what they can do?" Daryl's fury was hurtling off of him; none of his friends could remember seeing him this furious since the prison.

"She told me to, wouldn't take no for an answer. You ever try telling that woman no when she's got a gun?" Returning a mumble from the dirt, Jesus readjusted his jaw before pressing a hand beside himself to stand. Daryl scoffed as Michonne tried to calm him.

"We'll get her and bring her back safe,"

He shrugged her off, pivoting towards the motorcycle without a word.

"Daryl the Saviors are out looking for you...you can't come with us." Rick warned.

"The hell I ain't! Just gonna go anyways by myself, so unless you're willin' to put a bullet in my head ain't nobody stoppin' me."

 _They didn't have time have time for this_ , he thought. Carol was trapped out there with Negan slinking somewhere in the nearby distance; the longer they stood shitting the details the more likely she took matters into her own hands and put herself at risk. Rick had his priorities, but so did Daryl. He didn't want to sometimes, but no matter what he couldn't put anyone above her. Rick bowed his head and grunted in frustration, relenting to the hastily conceived plan.

"Okay, but we're all goin' in one car and you're riding in the backseat, don't need to advertise to the Saviors if we see 'em." He climbed into the passenger's seat with Jesus leading the way, Michonne and Daryl took the back. Maggie passed them a few rifles and hunting knives, agreeing to organize the Hilltop to be ready for a potential attack. Before closing the door she placed a hand softly on Daryl's shoulder.

"Carol's strong...stronger than all of us. You'll find her and it'll be fine, you two will be fine."

* * *

Their car was speeding around corners faster than it should in this weather; a slight slip of the wheels in the steady rain would derail them for sure. But Daryl still wished they were going faster. It had only been five minutes, but impending dread rose in him as the rainfall strengthened outside the window.

 _"Look, you're not who you were and neither am I. I don't know if I believe in God anymore or heaven, but if I'm going to hell, I'm making damn sure I'm holding it off as long as I can."_

Carol had to be fine, it couldn't end like this.

Looking briefly in the rear-view mirror, Jesus caught Daryl's eye. "I told her you'd be pissed, that I'd be lucky if you didn't kill me."

"Still haven't ruled that out," he mumbled looking out the window.

Jesus let out a small grin continuing, "I probably should be more afraid of her, bringing you out here. After seeing what she did with those walkers, would be more humane to let you beat me to death...as long as I can have one more cookie before I go."

There was almost a collective smirk amongst the foursome; the flooding light from oncoming headlights ceased all vivacious feelings. The car stopped twenty feet from a line of white box trucks blocking the road, angst filled the wagon's cab. Daryl ground his teeth, feeling his pulse race and blood pressure rise watching Dwight step into the light. An eerie whistled tune echoes in the air; eight other Saviors came to the front, heavily armed. Another whistle rang in air, this time enthusiastic and bouncy. With Lucille over his shoulder, Negan ambled between his followers, tightening leather gloves down his hands.

"WHO'S that trap-trapping over MY bridge?" The blinding lights disappeared, putting everything in clear view as Negan glared directly at Rick. A Cheshire cat sized grin developed across his guise.

"Why Rick...we have GOT to stop meetin' like this."


	5. Deep End

The wiper blades squeaked rhythmically, pushing sheets of water off of the windshield as a silent tension built in the car. Their animosity toward Negan so palpable, it seemed to bend the glass. There didn't appear to be too many out there, just about two for every one of them, but they were heavily out-gunned and could always be more hiding.

A metal chink to her left stunned Michonne enough to look over at Daryl, who had his pistol in hand with slide cocked. She shook her head at him, knowing he was willing to go out guns blazing if it meant protecting Carol. He slipped the Beretta into the waistband behind his back, pulling the dark long-sleeved shirt over to cover; he couldn't let what happened to Glenn happen again. This time it would be him or Negan.

* * *

Her eyes were being blinded by icy water cascading across her face, numbness overtaking her appendages, hellish noises growing closer. Tightness in her chest constricted her breathing, didn't matter, it would be over soon; after all the people she had killed, this is what she deserved. Darkness came from closed lids.

 _A mixture of pine soap and gasoline float into her senses, a sturdy hand of rough, warm skin slides underneath hers, endearing concerned eyes pierce through the darkness. "Hold on,"_

Frivolous laughter begins low in her belly, spreading exponentially to erupt in a cackle. Carol covers her mouth, smile pursing her lips as warm pools upend previous fresh rain stores. Arat's lifeless corpse groaned, stirring as Carol feebly rose by the assistance of her unscathed arm; her heavy heeled boot crushed the undead's nose into the back of its skull.

* * *

Jesus secured his knives in their sheaths, pulling both his sweater and jacket in concealment.

"Is there a set plan that we're going with here?"

"Blow the assholes head off," Daryl seethed out loud.

"Mm good with that," he rumbled, sliding fingers through the cut-out holes in his gloves.

"We play this smart... he still thinks he's in control," Rick said, blindly staring at the lunatic outside. "Anything you can't hide, leave in the car..." sliding one of the hunting knives backward up the sleeve of his jacket, under the line of the glove compartment. He stepped out into the enduring rain.

Negan was twirling Lucille in his hand towards the ground, water dripping off in an unsettling redolent fashion. Not looking at the approaching man as he laughed.

"Crazy weather we're havin', right?" Full teeth exposed through the smile.

Rick didn't answer the trivial statement as he swallowed back his hatred, eyes fixated and glanced sideways. "We're just getting your s-"

"It's so nice that you kids are gettin' along so well... you folk and the Hilltop. I mean, that you can put away the anger you must have for them after their doc couldn't save that hot sick chick... Daryl makin' me bash her husband's head in and all-" his head lowered slightly to meet Rick's eyes straight on. "That you're managing to do that, just to make ME happy...I gotta say, Rick, makes me think you're FINALLY gettin' it. Now, is there something you wanted to tell me?"

A quizzical look passed over Rick; puzzled as to what batshit scheme this man was playing at now. There was always something.

Before he could think to answer, Negan was walking away from him towards the group of people being escorted at gunpoint behind them. Jesus and Michonne walked in front, Michonne still adorned by her Katana over her back; Daryl a few steps behind, visibly shaking from contempt that could be easily passed off as being cold.

"WHO-LY SHIT, it's like mother-fuckin' Christmas these days! This is just too much," stopping in front of the dripping man with dampened hair covering most of his face. "Hi Daryl."

Daryl's fists balled at his sides, thoughts of beating the smug smile off his face rushed his mind; not until he was sure where she was.

"What...they couldn't spring ya a jacket?" Negan turned to face RIck. "At least I fed and clothed the man, but I guess he decided he liked the grass on your fucking side of the fence better.

 _The poly-wool sweat suit scratched against every inch of his skin. The filth and smell of death permeated out of it and into him; stripping away all sense of humanity._

Negan continued in an undertone, building as he went. "Now I have to wonder what the ACTUAL FUCK you're doin' out here, rollin' BALLS deep in gangster with Daryl, your Nubian samurai, and homeless emo Jesus. Considering how much you think of them and how little I KNOW you think of me...somethin' tells me this ain't no Sunday afternoon supply run, and...no offense... but that little bullshit line you tried feedin' me 'bout working with my pal Gregory at the Hilltop? Gregory don't do nothing that don't coddle his coin purse...and screwin' me around, would DEFINITELY NOT do that." Leaning himself into being inches away from Rick's face, "I do believe you are lookin' for somethin'."

Negan's chest puffed out looking like the cat that caught the canary, bouncing a small sidestep to Daryl.

"Or maybe someone..."

All four captives boiled at Negan, their increased breathing evident by the visible glaciating fogs from their mouths. Daryl charged forward at him, making it only a few feet before being stopped by his crossbow trained at his face.

Maniacal laughter floats in the air, "WOW, easy there Daryl, what makes you think that Carol needs protecting from me? More like the other way round...yes sir, you've got yourself one bad bitch with that one. She took out two of my people and I didn't lay a single hand OR bat to her; one of them with her own DAMN hands."

Her name crossing his lips bores a hole into Daryl's soul; all his efforts to never let him know she exists, to keep her safe at all costs, all a failure. He can only imagine what atrocities conceived by Negan may have befallen her, all because he found her and who she was to Daryl. For the first time today he felt the rawness of the air down in his bones.

 _Her smile, the feel of her hand against his face, her smell, the sound of her laughter, the way she teased him, the way she truly saw him, cared for him, "Daryl."_

"Where is she?" Rick gave a short grunt.

Negan snapped back towards the interruption in frustration, gripping Lucille with both hands and touching the end to Rick's temple. "You know what, Rick? I don't think this has a goddamn thing to do with you; this here concerns me, Daryl and that fine piece of ass woman of his." Turning his attention back. "Should have known you had something on the side when ya didn't take so much as a peek at my tantalizing selection. But I can understand, hell, a woman that talented with an ass like that...I couldn't bring myself to have her meet Lucille."

Daryl's voice was ragged with repressed contempt, "Bullshit."

"Since you don't believe me ... which hurts me DEEPLY; it just so happens I've got a little show and tell for ya'll." Negan backed up, extending an open hand - waiting for his whim to be answered by his men.

* * *

She throws the semi-automatic rifle she found on Davey's dead body onto the passenger seat, completely exhausted from dodging the hoard to retrieve it and get back. Fucking first three cars she tried to wire were dead. Stabbing pains riddle through her abdomen each time she bends, snatching what little breath she's able to manage. She hasn't bothered to look in any mirrors; can only really see out of one eye well and that image won't help anything.

Snarling moans are getting too close again, she curses under her breath before relief of the sound of a rolling engine. She slumps down in front of the wheel and pulls the door closed behind, demonic hands slam into the metal and glass in the fading light.

A few minutes down the road Carol stops the car, panic rising up as she looks at the scene at the bottom of the hill.

* * *

A short, balding man approaches Negan from the left; brutally dropping a blood-spattered vest to the ground, and resting a video camera draped with Carol's scarf in his open hand. Jesus and Michonne's eyes go wide at the sight of the vest, stuttering a breath. Daryl glares at the dangling grey scarf, dampened with both blood and rain, unable to breathe watching Negan pull it up to under his nose, inhaling deeply.

"Just like flowers and honey..." before letting out a low chuckle. "Daryl, come here... got somethin' special for you. What the hell, bring Rick along; couldn't have done this without him neither, he should get to enjoy the show." The side view flips open, rebooting the camera to life as the two men coercively rest restrained next to him.

Daryl might be losing his mind; millions of thoughts spinning around his head at once, every sound setting fire to his nerves. Anything could be on that machine; Carol being tortured, her death, or worse. He wasn't and could never be mentally prepared for whatever he was about to witness, forever being burned into his memories. Carol's image flashed up into light, trapped and visibly afraid, the lens shamelessly caressing every curve of her. Daryl turned his head away, unwilling to watch.

"The FUCK is that?"Negan seizes the front of Daryl's shirt in a clenched fist. " This is what you wanted, RIGHT, to find your woman? Well, I'm giving you what you wanted so WATCH the DAMN video." A flick of his head motions the bald Savior to pull his gun to Michonne's forehead, panic sweeping Rick's face. "Now I need you to understand ... to know me; to see how we got here."

The stilled video sparked back to life.

"Jesus, someone did one hell of a number on her; must've pissed 'em off with her quip remarks. Remind you of anyone Daryl? Hell, maybe you two like that sort of shit...a little tug and slap. She is gorgeous though, probably better from a view from the top, huh? How's that sayin' go...it beats me black and blue, but it FUCKS me so good." Chucking to himself, feeding off Daryl's anguish.

The thumps of Daryl's heart feel like they'll break open his chest; visions of Carol fighting for her life threaten to stop it completely. This is what was happening while he was at Hilltop, not protecting her. Had been sitting on his ass looking at the sky, arguing with Rick, while some piece of shit of Negan's beat her mercilessly.

Her whimpers radiate about his soul, leaving its mark.

"Oh wait, wait... here comes my favorite part," their captor gleefully sputters; a crack of bone and shriek from Carol cause Daryl's vision to fade, the feeling of wanting to vomit so tremendous it almost doubles him over.

Negan tilts back as he bends his knees, "Are you fucking serious? Fuck, could have saved myself a shit ton of time with you and your cell had I known where you were slipping your dick. Her pussy must be magical or some crap to turn a monumental bad ass like yourself into a little bitch."

Rage took over Daryl's body; the muscles across his back contracted, a sharp intake of breath lifted his chest, the lids of his eyes tightening slightly. He began to lift his arm for the pistol behind his back, sensed by Jesus, who blurted out in both anger and desolation.

"What do you want?"

"WHAT I WANT, you insignificant skin bag, is for Daryl and Rick to understand what happened and how they left me NO choice! As you can see, your little assassin just broke the rules and slit one of my people from ear to ear, but I didn't touch a hair on her GODDAMN grey head...no, I left her to find her own fucking way home, because I am a man, OF, MY, WORD. And you..." staring vehemently at Rick, his furor so great that he'd dropped the camera to clench his gloved fist tight enough to emit a squeak from the leather. "Have been lying to me since we pulled over your fucking caravan."

Rick began some sort of answer, gritted behind his teeth, as the heavy black vest heaped into a pile at their feet once more.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Rick? Think I wasn't gonna figure out what you assholes are plannin'...coming from the Hilltop, Daryl's bitch having Ezekiel's vest? You honestly think you FUCK FUCKING FUCKS can take me out with a delusional clown, his cat...and GREGORY?" Negan's glove slid into the inside of his jacket, emerging with Carol's Bowie knife; the white three gripped hand glistened in what was remaining of daylight, as he stood a foot from Daryl.

The hunting knife inside Rick sleeve began to drift towards his hand.

Jesus's fingers rolled through in sequence, pulling into tight balls.

Michonne slowed her breathing, watching the man with a gun to her head, waiting for him to alter his focus.

"Well then...welcome to the jungle."

The deafening roar of an engine and squealing tires pierced the air as a dark blue sedan thundered down a hill into the crossroad, causing both groups to divide slightly; the sedan slamming into the box trucks.

* * *

Confusion floated like a cloud briefly. Michonne seized the moment to knock the gun out of her face and grab a hold of the barrel, twisting away as three shots escaped. The sheen of her Katana swung through the air and connected halfway through the man on the other end. Gunshots resounded from every direction.

The sound of slicing flesh wafted around Rick as he turned on his heels to meet a pair of disorganized Saviors, darts of warmth hit his face among the raw drizzle.

Daryl reached for his gun, drawing on Negan who was only feet in front of him, finally about to get revenge for everything. Dwight instantaneously appeared with a brawny, darker skinned Savior, both aiming at the archer. All four men out in the open; shouts and bullets whizzing about, standing around for seconds that felt like minutes. A high-pitched whir sounded, blood bursts from the back of the muscular man's head, throwing him forward on the ground dead. Negan ducks and rolls backward towards his trucks, never having let go of Lucille.

A decent sized hoard of walkers descend upon the carnage from the hill, lured by the weaponized car. The remaining Saviors turn their guns on the advancing dead.

Daryl points his gun at Dwight kneeling on one knee; he could have stopped what happened to Carol, he knew who she was and should have found a way out of it. All her suffering, his suffering, was a result of Dwight's actions or inactions. The man seemed to resign himself to his fate, lowering his eyes, not moving from the ground. Rick's voice hollering Daryl's name carried over everything, shifting his thoughts for a brief second, enough to pull out the last bit of Carol in him and let Dwight go. The man lifted cautiously as he back-stepped towards his exit. Another whir hummed in the air, Dwight's forearm shooting forward in a cloud of red, dropping the crossbow. Daryl looked around confused; the only person close enough to be found was Jesus, who was thrusting a dagger into a Savior's neck from behind. When he looked up again, Dwight was almost in the remaining undamaged truck, being filled by Negan and remaining Saviors.

 _"Some things are worth protecting." The sound of her voice echoing, being cut off by her shrill scream in pain, the sight of her vest and scarf coated in blood pounding in his head._

He couldn't let them just get away after everything; running towards the vehicle firing wildly, not caring that he was heading into the hoard. Rick, Michonne, and Jesus follow behind him, aiming for walkers intent on Daryl.

The single box truck begins to pull away, rounds being fired off as it propels towards the horizon.

Only they remain now, encased by the still numerous mob; drawing into the center pressing their backs together, ready in each direction.

Blaring thunder rings out in the sound of automatic gun firing flatly. Walkers begin dropping all around them, they themselves hitting the ground to escape the crisis above. Just as abruptly as it started it ended, huddled together in a splayed wide ring of dead bodies. Daryl's eye sift through the warfare to land on the steaming sedan hood. Reaching the scene hastily, he scans through the empty cab, not sure what he's looking for.

The cab is empty except for a broken branch wedged against a rock resting on the accelerator. The box beneath the wheel broken open, wires exposed for hot-wiring. His heart skips and stops at the same time as he discovers blood smears along the headrest. Lowering his gaze in worry, the swinging of something metallic catches his eye; a small, sharpened cross hangs from a chain on the rear-view mirror. Possibility swells in his chest, pushing back and moving up the hill slightly, scanning rashly.

A twig breaks under the weight of something to his right, he turns with more hope than he's allowed himself in weeks. She stands partially crumpled in front of him, leaning against a plated rifle, offering a weak smile.


	6. Everything

The shock and relief on his face almost make her weep with overflowing happiness, flooding out of every pore. Expanding warmth, the only warmth she can feel, balls in the center of her chest to radiate over her ribs. His hitch in breath is like a punch in the gut; taking down any safeguards she could possibly have left and pushing them away.

She had done it, everything was okay, Daryl was safe and alive.

Her eyelids lapsed repeatedly under the enormous feeling of weight above them. He looked just as tired, with the wear of the day displaying openly on his face and body; his shoulders slacking weightily forward, rounding the top of his back.

She can tell his emotions are about to get the better of him, letting himself feel the full extent of the day's events, unlading his soul. She wants so badly to hold his face between her hands and soothe his pain away with the touch of her fingers, feel his heartbeat with hers against her chest as a soothing, grounding note.

The lightness in her head sailed higher, taking all the weight and pain in her body with it. His face as he calls her name is the last thing she sees before everything fades into a bright whiteness, as she crumbles loosely on the damp ground.

* * *

It's like it happened in slow motion. She was just smiling at him from the not so distant cover of few trees lining the street corner before the glaze came over her eyes, then she wasn't there anymore, body cascading into leaf covered soil.

Daryl runs as fast as he can to her, subsequently realizing the extent of veil the darkened tree covering was providing.

Carol almost doesn't seem alive.

Bruises of varying shades of purples, reds, and blues scatter her pale skin from her chest to arms. Top layers of skin missing from road rash trickle drops of blood. The socket of her right eye red and swollen to almost encompass the eye, blending to bruising along the contours of her face. He falls beside her to hold her, only to be shocked at how cold she is, burning to his own chilled touch. The glow behind her soft, pale skin turned dull and grey. He pulls her limp form into his chest, uttering no repeatedly as a one last plea to the universe.

Short, strained gasps combined with a whimpering groan spark Daryl's ears to look down at her. Carol's eyes dart around with uncertainty, fear creeping in from the edges. She jolts with a groan again when he grabs her tighter as he becomes aware of the deviated, swollen line at the top of her left shoulder.

"Hey, you're safe...you're gonna be okay, I got you." He stammers, in effect also trying to calm himself.

He knows she isn't breathing right, isn't getting enough air. The more he listens to her struggle the more panic creeps up in his thoughts; he needs to get her to someplace that can help her.

Rick and Michonne rush towards them while he attempts to stabilize the left arm into her body; Jesus quickly turns on point for the wagon. Amidst frenzied eye movements along Carol's body Michonne rips off her jacket, wrapping it around her as much as possible in an attempt to halt her dropping temperature.

"We need to get her to the Hilltop to Dr. Carson," Rick states the obvious.

Daryl wasn't paying any attention to either of them or anything else for that matter. His distressed gaze held only on Carol, willing her with every fiber of his being for her to keep breathing, keep living.

The station wagon screeches into an emergency sliding stop, swinging the back directly in line with the concerned huddle. Flying out of the driver's side, Jesus immediately opens the hatchback and folds down the back seats.

She weighs practically nothing in his arms as he lifts her off the ground and wraps his outside arm against her shoulder for protection, continuing whimpers escaping her listless body. The sounds both reassuring she's alive and gut-wrenching to contemplate her level of pain. He slides her softly onto the floor mats, following into cramped quarters that offer a surprising relief of tangible warmth. Carol's body-wracking shivers endure.

Jesus drops behind the wheel with Rick falling in beside him. Rick lifts a rifle, releasing the safety turning his face to the driver.

"Don't stop for anything-"

* * *

Lights flicker back and forth in the corners of her vision, the jostling of the car through accelerated turns torment from the inside out. She can hear harsh breathing that she for a moment thinks might be hers, before turning her head to see him. Daryl's arched figure leans as close as possible without touching, desperation engulfing his usually still demeanor.

He looked like he does after waking from one of his recent nightmares, she thought.

She reaches the fringe of her fingers to his calloused hand planted beside her, causing him to still and lock onto her gaze. His hand is still damp from the rain, letting it slide easily as it clamps forcefully around hers; the pressure from his touch the only certainty her vision isn't deceiving her. The body of the car bounces as the wheels pass over a pothole; white-hot pain racks through every part of her torso, inducing a shrill cry while throwing her head back. She feels the lightness pulling her away again.

"Carol... stay with me here, hey...it's gonna be fine. I know it hurts but ya' gotta stay here with me," praying as he tries to tuck the small jacket around her more and rubbing against the inside of her elbow. "Ain't ready for ya to stop teasin' me yet." Tears begin to swell in his eyes, fighting with everything to not break down. "Nine live 'member?"

Reverberations of pain still darting around, Carol turns her head towards him, managing the smallest glimmer of a smile.

"Five now," she strained, just audible between short breaths.

The wheels rolled over another pothole, the bones in her wounded shoulder grind their edges together, garish spasms drive towards her chest. What little breath she had left was snatched away, returning only at a fraction of what it once was. Her eyes went wide with panic, Daryl leaned over, hopelessly encouraging her to not leave him.

"She's not going to be able to breathe much longer," Michonne hastens towards the front of the cab.

* * *

"Where's Carson?" Jesus bellows, having pulled his body halfway above the hood of the car.

Michonne swings open the rear door to unveil a fidgeting, soaked Daryl leaning on one arm hovering over Carol. Her chest barely moving with every rise and fall; Daryl slides down the bed to better gather her. Rick meets his stance on the other side to support her pliable form.

 _She nestles her head into the crook of his shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck for support. The pressure of her body pressed into his arms relieves him that she is safe, as he carries over motionless bodies lining the prison corridor._

But this time ... she isn't safe.

The medical area is mute and sterile as they burst through, breaking the still. Rick and Daryl lay her on the single hospital cot; she offers little acknowledgment but for a humming moan and passing eye flutters. Daryl settled beside her head, brushing the palm of his hand over her temple into her slick hair, watching her mouth with every pass of air.

Dr. Carson strides through the congregation of people to reach his patient; freckled-face primed and focused on the current situation, snapping plastic gloves down to his wrists.

"What do we have?" Immediately examining the near lifeless woman before him.

"She was beaten pretty bad and left unprotected in this weather...she may have also rolled out a moving car." Michonne faltered in her words. "She's been having trouble breathing since we got to her, and it's only getting worse."

Maggie appears in the door frame and gasps covering her mouth at her friend's state, physically being taken a step backward.

Daryl feels like everything is happening in slow motion, yet too fast. Why isn't he helping her yet, feels like they have been there hours? She's slipping away twice as fast for every second of inactivity. Every person in the room appears to be moving without urgency, watching her lose her resolve to fight any longer.

"Ya gotta do somethin'...help her!" He whimpers, cracks in his stoic guard moments from shattering.

Dr. Carson pulls his stethoscope from Carol's chest, flinging it onto the counter behind. "She's moderately hypothermic, we need to get her out of these cold, wet clothes and warmed up as fast as possible. Maggie, get as many blankets as you can possibly find." He reached into one of the drawers to bring out a large pair of medical scissors, instantly beginning to cut away at her tank top and pants. Left only in her underwear, the massive amount of bruising coursing across her abdomen in the long, thin forms of boots purchase everyone's attention. Daryl's heart stops, knees buckling lightly to catch himself on the side of the cot.

 _"Whatever he's done, there's more...there's always more."_

"We need to put a chest tube in. I'm going to need someone to restrain her," the doctor presses on, grabbing for a scalpel from the drawer.

Daryl's attention snaps forward at the blade, standing up towards the man. Rick steps into the doctor's side placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dr. Carson is un-phased by the tension and angles his face to between the two. "The impact to her chest has caused a leak of air into the cavity surrounding her lung, the pressure from which has caused it to collapse. I need to put a tube in to release the air or the stress on her could collapse the other or stop her heart. She's not gonna like it, but I can't give her anything for the pain because the drugs could raise her blood pressure and start internal bleeding from the trauma."

Daryl steps back, running a hand through his slick hair, astonished at where they'd gotten to. He couldn't be part of holding her down while someone cut into her, trapping her in another form of tortuous hell. Knew what it was like being held down while someone beyond your control made you wish to be somewhere … anywhere else. Carol's eyes wearily opened, scanning the space around her head.

"We don't do this now, she WILL die," Carson stated bluntly.

Letting out a long drawn exhale, Rick nodded his head with his eyes looking away. Michonne moved to the end of the bed looking full of sympathy upon Carol's condition, Jesus moved to the right side as Daryl paced at the top by her head. Rick looked down at her pale forearm before softly placing both hands on it; she looked over at him as hands were placed on her shins and opposing shoulder. His head ducked down nearer to hers, tears dwelling under his eyes.

"I'm sor-, I'm sorry."

 _Daryl's mom cowers in the corner, screaming as his dad lands hand upon hand down on her. The bastard seems like a giant, towering feet above him and his young body. Calling out for him to stop as his tiny fists clench at his sides; the living nightmare pounds over to him. "Boy, you ain't even begun to know what pain is,"_

The agonizing sound she makes recoils around the painfully silent room. Tears stream down Daryl's face as he whispers to her with his temple next to hers, wishing it was already over.

"I'm here, promise I'm not leavin'! It's gonna be...you're every bit as good as 'em, every bit."

Maggie drops the cluster of six or so blankets she acquired; dismayed at the sight and sounds she's walked back into.

She breathes much easier now, passed out under three heavy fleece blankets, her shoulder splinted in a sling against her chest. Daryl stands with Rick and Dr. Carson a few feet from the bed.

"Now we'll just have to wait and see. Going to be a while before we know more about head or internal injuries, the more she warms up the more she's at risk to start bleeding. Considering everything, she's lucky to be alive." Carson informs them with genuine concern.

Daryl lets out a dismissive huff, turning back into the room to a chair that has been placed by her bed. This isn't lucky, it's far from it.

Rick thanked the doctor, shuffling to the inside of the door.

She still feels like an ice block as he slumps into the chair and covers her small hand with his under numerous blankets. The strain across her face is gone now, making her look virtually peaceful if it weren't for the intensifying shades of bruises right in front of him. He doesn't blame her for passing out from the pain of the tube, wished she could have saved herself the agony and been out in the car; if he'd let her. Daryl rests his forehead against the edge of the thin sheets.

"This is my fault, I told her about the run. Told her she should go," Rick let out in a low, gravely, whisper.

"No."

"I knew she wasn't ready to be out there, but we needed to protect our family and what she can do...I knew she'd go if it meant protecting you-"

Daryl bolted up out of the chair to rest two feet from Rick, no longer willing or able to control any of his emotions. "I ain't doin' this, not now... not here! You wanna feel bad ... alright, you really fucked up, but this ain't about you right now. So go have your pity party someplace else 'cus I ain't got time for it!" His breathing ragged with irritation; now was not the time to speak with Rick about this, she was more important and he didn't have the strength to punch him. Rick retreated out of the room leaving Daryl to fall back into the chair and his earlier position next to her.

He stayed awake most of the night watching her; analyzing each shortened or lengthened breath, every twitch of a muscle, every sound that passed her lips. He must have fallen asleep briefly; stirring to the early morning light coming in from the window above her, noticing the presence of his crossbow on the adjacent counter. The smell of some sort of food made its way to his nose, turning to find Jesus sitting cross-legged inside the door eating a bowl some mushed grain.

"Found it following you after the Saviors. She hit her target so...figured she deserved some sort of trophy." He reached around the corner to recover another bowl of grains, pushing it out in Daryl's direction.

He shook his head with a guttural sound that could only be believed to be a 'no'. Jesus's upbeat tone puzzled Daryl, didn't know what he was doing here when he barely knew either of them.

"Gotta eat something at some point; can't have you wasting away before she wakes up, it'll be my ass on the line, remember?" He hands over a rolled up fleece blanket. Daryl realizes while his hair may be dry, his clothes are still damp in various spots; still, he shakes his head.

Jesus sighs, "Fine, have it your way. Just know that I'll tell her it's your fault when she's back to herself."

Daryl stares at Carol lying helpless and fragile on the bed, aching in him rising up. He wants to believe that it's the truth, not just wishful thinking.

"Hey...she's not going anywhere anytime soon. Still got a lot of unresolved matters to take care of. She's one of two of the most stubborn people I've met since everything happened." Daryl gave him a questioning side glance. "Don't worry, it's a good thing."


	7. Tell me it's real

The corners of her eyes crinkle, her brows furrow. The early morning's lights and shadows cascade through the small window above the bed, playing off of her hair down to her eyes.

She's been unconscious for more than twenty-four hours while he's been rooted in the chair at her side since that hellish night; occasionally drifting around the room now littered with bowls and bits of food left by a visiting Jesus, checking on Carol and attempting to provide Daryl with some company. He knew that Jesus meant well, but he barely managed to give him a grunt of acknowledgment each time he passed through the door. He didn't want to talk to anyone... well not anyone.

Her knees draw up the slightest as she struggles to roll from hip to hip; a grimace spreading across her once peaceful features, fingers twitching under multiple blankets.

His eyes flit from the bolt he's inspecting. Daryl lets his left leg un-tuck from under his seated posture to rise halfway out of his temporary home. Fluttering heartbeats of hope that she may awaken increase inside his chest as he stands at her bedside, he's been dying to have her look back at him and talk to him about everything and nothing in particular. She's become such an integral part of his happiness that he'd broken thinking what if they never spoke again, can't fathom a world without her.

The pain is evident on her, still trapped in a world he can't get to and trying to curl herself into a ball while remaining flat on her back.

He lets his fingers paint down the inside of her shin over the blanket and palm his other hand on her shoulder. He'd never let himself be this close to her while they were both awake, but he felt the rhythm of his heart beating out the words he couldn't find. Gently increasing the pressure on her shoulder, he hears her murmuring things he can't understand. He moves his hand from her leg to float along the edge of her face, curled index finger slipping under her chin while his thumb rests atop of it.

"Shh, just rest. Ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya."

Tense, coiled fingers moved underneath the blankets as he watched them migrate towards her abdomen.

 _Arat's boot swings and repeatedly crushes into Carol's gut as she lay huddled in the fetal position, Negan's raving laughter ringing in the air._

Instinctively and without hesitation, Daryl rushes his hand under the blanket to match her hand's placement, only remembering once there that she's barely wearing any clothing. The soft, tender skin under his touch causes him to pause for a moment; remembering the bruises that scatter her there and the warnings given by Dr. Carson, he doesn't want to hurt her more. But the feeling of spasming muscles coupled with the continuing grimace from her overrides any feelings of doubt he has, flattening his wide palm gently against the warmth underneath, circling small movements with his thumb.

Carol gradually takes a deeper breath as her expression lightens, eyes fluttering behind closed lids.

"... Daryl," the lightest voice escapes her.

* * *

She opens her eyes to the brightest of light streaming through boarded slats forming the walls around, the smell of grass and fresh soil filling her senses, a warm breeze blowing in from overhead. Looking down, her boots twist through a sprinkling of straw to the dusty earth below. She knows this place, so familiar to her it's like a piece of her soul; she's in the Greene's barn.

Another look around provides her with more surprises; she can see unobstructed from both eyes and has no visible evidence of her run-in with Negan. In fact, she's completely free of any pain. The bottom drops out of her stomach wondering if it was all over if she had succumb to her injuries and died. It wouldn't be the worst thing if it were true; finally free from the pain and hardness of how the world was now, finally free of the fear of waiting to inevitably lose someone she cared about.

Thoughts of Daryl creep in, weighing down her heart.

Movement stirs behind her, startling her around reaching for a weapon at her waist that isn't there. The air is sucked out of her lungs when she lays her eyes upon the blonde-haired, light-eyed little girl in front of her in an oversized blue t-shirt.

"Hi Mama."

Tears streamed down Carol's face looking at her little girl again, healthy and full of life, not the empty monster that had come out of the barn that day. She must be dead, gone to heaven to finally be with Sophia again; no she couldn't be, this couldn't be, heaven wouldn't let her in after what she'd done. Carol's hand trembled as it came up to cover her mouth.

"Don't be sad mama, I'm fine, see? There's nothing ugly here, we're safe. Aren't you going to hug me?"

She wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in her arms as tight as she physically could and never let go. She couldn't though. Sophia was innocent and unaffected by the world Carol had been living in ... killing in; she wouldn't tarnish her daughter with the blood that she carried on her soul.

"I love you but it's different now...the things that I've done for people, that I've done to people...I'm not the same. You'd never forgive me for the things I've done," her voice shook, not being able to look Sophia in the eye but not wanting to look away.

The girl moved towards her mother, but Carol stepped away before she got too close.

Sophia tilted her head in confusion. "Did you do it because you wanted to hurt people?"

"No, it wasn't about 'wanting' to hurt anyone," she replied.

"Were you trying to help someone...to protect them?"

Carol had never wanted to try to explain this to her, couldn't really make sense of it to herself. She had been relieved Sophia had not had to bear witness to the things she'd had to do, or the monster she had become.

"It's not that simple-"

"Why?"

A booming voice with a recognizable drawl came from the rafters overhead, interrupting their conversation.

"Geesh woman, everythang don't gotta be the end of the freakin' world!"

A sly, charming smile extended the width of his face. His graying dark hair and scruff still accentuated his strong jawline, his pooling dark blue eyes still linked him to those she'd looked into a thousand times. Sitting down on the rafter, his legs swayed causing the open dark-colored shirt to sway against a strikingly white tank top.

"What are you doin' here Merle?" scoffing looking up at him. Within an instant he had gone, reappeared inches away beside her.

"Fuck mouse... I'm here for you. This here's your little dream sequence, I ain't here unless you want me. Me and your little girl there... we're here cus' you made us," he slowly cantered his response. Walking circles around her, he twisted both his hands in her vision and chuckled. "By the way, thanks for this."

Carol looked down slightly disappointed; exhaling that it's just a dream under her breath.

"You're hurt. You needed somewhere to go to be safe, to think things through and about what you want to do next." Sophia's sweet voice chimed in.

"You's a real mess after that Negan fucker sicked his little bitch on ya, but you sure as hell showed her! Damn you were right... you ain't the woman you was back then,"

Carol shot a harsh, disapproving glare at Merle; if it were really her dream then he would not use that language in front of her daughter, real or not. He held his hands up in gesturing defense, a cool look in his eyes that cast slightly down at her.

"Oooh don't get ya nipples in a twist, ain't nothin' she ain't heard before! S'like I told ya before, we're here cus' ya made us here... we're in your brain, mouse. Ain't my mouth ya gotta watch, it's yours. Now, why don't ya answer the little darlin's question."

She turned away from both of them. No, she wasn't going to relieve this all again, she had made her choice; it was the only way she could stay alive both inside and out, the only way to stay human. Things were better off this way and she didn't need to think about anything."

"Shut up," Carol cast back at Merle.

Merle widely grinned, pursing his lips into a barely open oval knowing he'd hit a nerve.

Sophia barged in to continue "The man ... the one that hurt you, you don't like him … were afraid of him ... why?"

"He hurt people, some of them I care about very much."

"That nice man who fell down off the horse and got hurt trying to find me? He was one of them, right... you care about him?" Her daughter having intimate knowledge of the inside of her head was unnerving, no matter what form. She was still in charge though she thought, and she didn't have to say anything she wasn't ready to say.

"Yes, very much...he's my friend, we're like family."

Merle scoffed loudly, "Bullshit! Ain't gone off like G.I Jane with a rattler up her ass for just 'family'. Ya'lls supposed ta be one big happy family, but I ain't see Deputy Dawg go runnin' guns blazin' trying to save my baby brother when that fuck had him. Naw, he's too busy tryin'a decide whether he wants ta be a mother-fuckin' farmer or some bad ass machete-wielding wild man! You stepped up, and ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"I can't do it anymore!" She barked back, temper flaring, extruding droplets of tears. Throbbing pain ripped through her abdomen, dropping her to one knee.

"So you wish you could go back and not do what you did, leave the people to deal with that man by themselves?" Sophia sat before her, her knees tucked up into her chin.

"Yes ... no ... I don't want to do it, to become a monster. I'm not willing to become just like those things, killing mindlessly, pretending it's to protect people I care about." She answered in between breaths, trying to regain it.

"You like doing it, killing? Do you look forward to it?" Sophia seemed upset, spinning her fingers in the dry ground below.

"No! Sweetie, I did it to protect people who couldn't or wouldn't protect themselves,"

"So how's that wrong?"

"Kids got a point," Merle muttered.

"I went after Negan, I didn't have to be out there waiting around with a gun-" starting low in her voice before being cut off.

"That bastard cop sent ya out there ta do his dirty work ... wound you up, knowing full well what you'd do ta protect Darylina. Think he didn't know what was out there?"

 _The conversation with Rick in the hallways of Barrington house; Negan was bound to be out there nearby, looking for Daryl knowing he'd find his family some way... what he'd probably do when/if he found him._

 _The look on his face when she found him at her door outside near the Kingdom, the obvious terror behind his beautiful eyes. She'd seen the freshly healing hole in his shoulder, the collective bruises across his torso, felt his flinch under the lightest touch._

A warmth spread from one side of her belly to the other taking away the pain as it spread. Calmness took over her.

"Daryl," she uttered, hearing her words echo through the barn. Pushing herself up to come face to face with both Merle and Sophia.

"You're not a monster, mama, you're strong and you do what you have to protect the one you love. Maybe you don't have to kill everyone, but being strong enough to fight for those who can't doesn't make you bad ... you did it for me with daddy ... I'd do it for you."

Tears flowed freely down Carol's cheeks, dropping into her daughter's hand that reached up to wipe them away. She reached down to pull Sophia into her by the shoulders, finding a peace she didn't know that she'd ever felt. After a minute, she glanced up at Merle who still stood there with a grin.

"So what you're like my fairy godmother or some shit, getting me back to the murderous ball?" Trying to give him one last wisecrack.

He stood shaking his head, "Fuck woman, you ain't been payin' attention to a damn thing have ya? I told ya, I'm here for you."

Carol thoroughly confused, let go of Sophia's head and gently moved her to the side, stepping towards Merle. "What is this really about?"

"Why am I here?... I'm here for you, but why'd ya choose me? It's your brain so ya could of picked any goddamn one, but here I am; so what have I been telling you this whole time?"

"You're Daryl's brother... you may have been a jerk but in the end you did the noble thing and tried to save everyone." Still unsure of what he was getting at.

"Why'd it have ta be Daryl's brother?" He questioned, they both stood silent for what seemed like eternity. "Cus' everythin' is about him. You didn't need nobody ta tell you that ain't no monster, y'already knew that just didn't wanna believe it. But what about him... why ya gotta do everythin' to be so close ta him?"

The light started fading away in the barn, making it troublesome to see far into the back, creeping closer and closer to her with each passing moment. She looked back to the man who was barely a visible shadow.

"Remember, it's your choice... ain't gotta be 'bout nothin' that ya didn't want it ta be." His voice fading before changing completely to one she could never forget. "I love you."

* * *

Her abdominal spasms seem to subside, the pained look vanished from her face yet Daryl couldn't forget that she had said his name. She was still unconscious so it most likely meant nothing, something she was reliving in her head about that night. But what if it did?

Daryl moved his hand away and pulled the chair closer to her bed before sitting down again. He chewed at the inside of his lip, mulling over his thoughts repeatedly, trying to come to a decisive decision. She had nearly died the night before and the weeks before, hell, they'd both almost died so many times it was fucking ridiculous. And with Negan on the loose on a rampage, who knows if next time might not be almost. He swallowed hard before rambling.

"You gotta wake up. It ain't safe no more for you to be sleepin' ... can't protect you right like this, and I need to - I get it, I left you stuck up in your head when you weren't okay; should've known ya weren't even if ya said you were. I need ya to stay with me though cus' you're the only thing I can count on to hold onto; this world's so fucked and you're the only thing that's made sense for ... a while. Nothin's gone as planned, you know that more than any of us here ... probably why you ran away before you left. Don't blame ya, nobody's perfect but I miss ya. I'm so fucking tired of missin' ya and I ain't doin' it no more ya hear me? Cus you're a part of me and I'm a part of you even if ya don't like it ... you're in my veins." Daryl paused for a second, taking her free hand both of his and laying his forehead on them against the bed. "I love you."

Minutes pass, his own words and fears still twirl in his mind as moisture builds in the corners of his eyes. The sunlight outside beams through the window irking him slightly, burying his face tighter into the bedding

Small movements begin against his forehead - ignoring them briefly as more movements while she dreams - he takes in a breath. But the breath gets caught in his chest, fragile fingertips suddenly rolling through the top of his hairline and pushing wayward strands sedately off of his face.


	8. Salvation

Daryl's mind was fluttering with excitement, although he forced himself to hold a healthy amount of disbelief. For all he knew, he was dreaming the thing he wanted most in the world into reality, only to be discontented when the truth came out he was just hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

It hadn't come easy for him since they found her, not that he even searched for it; he'd spent hours watching over her every move, making sure he did anything he could. The few hours his body did force him to obtain were riddled with nightmares and nameless thoughts that shook him awake.

But her feather-like motions continued to curve on his head and through his hair. They were painstakingly slow and purposeful. When he felt the straining of her wrist pulling against the grip of his hands, his gaze shot up, eyes still blurred and stinging. The glimmer of the reflecting light in the bluest eye he'd even seen gazing back at him was only overshadowed by the tender smile glowing in her cheeks.

The breath shook as it escaped his chest, taking him with it, rocking a flood of tears free from the dam held within. He ducked his head down in a struggle to keep his emotions hidden, her touch rose to rest on his cheek as her tears began streaming without constraint.

"Missed you too Pookie,"

They stayed locked in contact - his hands clinging to the outside of hers - pushing the delicate pressure into the stubble along his jaw. Both of them wondering about what had been said and what was heard, but neither of them willing to give up the moment. She won't push him if he's not ready, and he won't force her to say something she doesn't want; they're both happy to live in the moment of all possibilities.

She rolled her head side to side, slowly reacquainting herself with reality, spotting the crossbow slung over the back of the chair, eliciting an exaggerated light gasp.

"Oh thank God, it wasn't all for nothing."

Tears gave way to comical laughter on both sides. Carol had to pull back her exuberance, torrents firing in her chest and abdomen when she let herself laugh a little too hard. Daryl touched the top of the blanket, telling her to stop while still holding a gleeful smile.

"How ya feelin' ?" stroking the top of her head, gliding through the fluffy, disheveled locks.

"Uhh, like I got the crap beaten out of me and jumped out a car," she replied staring up at the white ceiling trying to find a comfortable position, which proved unachievable. "You should see the other guy."

The regret and blame bears clearly through his expression, still taking everything on himself. She can't imagine how he could make this his fault, but knew him too well to know he could; every loss, every mistake was his to prevent. He had always carried too much of the responsibility for everyone's well-being and security, pretending like he didn't give a shit. She knew the depths of his gentle heart though, she'd seen it back at the farm when he searched for her Sophia.

Carol grabbed the upper part of his forearm with enough tension to make him understand her sincerity. "Hey, this wasn't your fault. I went out there because I wanted to-"

"Wouldn't have gone if Rick hadn't -" he cut himself short before feeding into the outrage pressing under his voice. His free hand flexed rigid against the bed.

She turned her head fully to face him, lifting it up as much as physically possible in her given state. " Doesn't matter what he did or didn't say... the decision was mine, and everything that happened...I'd do everything that happened again." Tucking her hand under the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, soaking in the warmth and intimacy, "Some things are worth protecting... always will be."

The look in his eyes left nothing unanswered. He had meant every word that he'd said to her and all the more, she knew; may have been before he even affirmed it to himself or it could have been when he said the words aloud, but she knew and wasn't running.

The latch of the door clicked as it opened, startling Daryl back behind his walls, shedding his hand from her hair. Feeling the unease, Carol pulled her touch away reluctantly yet forgetting the level of her circumstances, sucking in hard between her teeth and grabbing her ribs. His emotions jumped just as fast to worry as he cradled the outside of her shoulder, Jesus stepping into view.

A blank look turned to astonishment seeing Carol's once flattened frame now slightly angled with her head raised into her chest, Jesus flung the poor excuse for breakfast onto any open surface, now striding to the bed.

"Oh my g-, Carol... are you ok? How long have you been awake?" he stammered aimlessly.

"I'm fine, just... give me a minute," taking a couple slow breaths to quell the burning under her skin. She laid her head back against the pillow, opening her eyes to see both men remarkably close to the bedside; Daryl's face consumed with concern. "I'm fine, I promise. Only been a couple of minutes and Daryl's been taking care of me." spanning the separation to stroke his forearm.

"Ya should be restin', doc said you'd be healin' a while."

"Yah, you need to take your time. I'm sure Dr. Carson will want to know you're awake, check that everything's going the right way." Jesus patted the bedding above her ankle, smiling as he turned back towards the door. "I'm really happy you're up."

"Thanks, but I think we all know there's no time to rest." she huffed closing her eyes.

Before he could disagree, Daryl felt Jesus's hand tap the back of his shoulder.

"The food you're not going to eat is on the counter." waving in its direction as Daryl reacted with a low nod. "I'll be back with Dr. Carson in a bit; that should give you enough time to get back to _whatever_ unfinished business I interrupted earlier."

* * *

Apparently, she went against most medical odds, if you listened to the doctor. Surviving such an attack and coming out of it with very few long-term physical damages; it was obvious he'd never spent a good part of his life living with an abuser. It wasn't physical scars she'd worried about for some time.

Dr. Carson's examination did provide her with some entertainment though. She had never seen Daryl blush so much, even with all the teasing over the years. Her mostly bare body exposed from under the blankets, his eyes followed the doctor's touch across every inch of her visible while trying to disguise it in sideways glances. Carol about let out a giggle when his face turned a new shade of crimson as Carson's touch palpated just above her underwear; it was almost enough to make her forget the blunted misery it created.

"Eyes up front buddy," Maggie chortled, handing over medical supplies to Dr. Carson.

"Shh, Maggie ... I've got him right where I want him." Carol smiled wildly, looking at Daryl's face as he tucked it under his ragged hair.

"Alright alright, no more talking while I get this chest tube out," Dr. Carson directed as he lifted up the top half of the bed into a slightly reclined position. "Maggie, I'm going to need you over here ready for sutures."

* * *

Maggie helped her slide her way into sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie; the fresh stitches in her side dully pulsing through overworked painkillers.

She had managed to force Daryl to leave her room to get some sleep despite his protest, threatening to get completely naked in front of him. He was almost falling off his feet from fatigue, eyelids drooping heavily. Jesus had promised to keep him from sleeping outside the door and maybe getting some food in him; she appreciated Daryl's devotion but not at his own expense.

"Thank you," Maggie expressed looking her dead in the eye.

"For what?" confusion filled Carol's mind. She was the one receiving help, it made no sense.

"For bein' stronger than any of us knew we needed. You've always been the one keeping us together, protecting us from everythin' we couldn't or wouldn't face. I don't think I've ever told you how much it's appreciated, I know if Glenn were here he'd... he thought the world of you." The sadness echoed in her words.

"And I thought the world of him," swallowing back the regret of not being there to help him.

Maggie held Carol's hand tightly, squeezing once before pointing out she needed to get some rest. Carol agreed, sniffing back the tears and gingerly placed her legs back onto the bed, rearranging her positioning a small number of times to get used to being upright again.

"Want me to put it back down flat? Might sleep better that way."

"Gotta start getting back on my feet sometime... even if it is while I sleep." Her coy smile spread as she dropped against the pillow, closing her eyes. She knew Maggie would understand the impulse to not stay down long no matter how much you hurt, not when people you love are in jeopardy. There wasn't time anymore to sit around licking your wounds, Negan surely wouldn't be.

Her mind drifted for a while, thinking about the last time she was 'asleep' and saw Sophia, unlikely to get the same gift again when she settled. The years with and after Ed had taught her that sleep is never an escape; it's more so the time your demons play on your defenseless psyche. She knew what had happened that cold, awful night would find her in her dreams again, no protection from the lengths her imagination would go to, being trapped with no way out. Her gaze flickered open, letting out a sigh. Daryl's nightmare resurfaced to the forefront of her thoughts; he'd still been having them when she'd left and her experience couldn't have helped any.

Carol immediately felt guilty for sending him away, even if in the best of intentions; he would now be at the mercy of his own tortured mind. The thought of waiting and hoping he wouldn't listen to her was maddening enough on its own.

She leant forward enough to support her weight on her good arm, grimacing at the slow-burning pain she'd have to learn to come accustom to, dragging her legs over the edge, returning her body to its early position with Maggie. Looking down at the floor, it had never been so far away or seemed like such an obstacle.

She inhaled a deep breath, this was going to hurt like a bitch and she knew it. Her body skated off the bed and to her surprise, her legs stood up to the burden. The satisfaction was short-lived as the third step brought back the burning with vengeance, doubling her over and sending her towards the ground.

Jesus' arms caught her mid-tumble, both alleviating and an additional source of pain.

"What do you think you're doing? You need to stay put," he gave a concerned yet serious look, assisting in getting her feet back underneath her.

"Bathroom," she lied. She knew Daryl wouldn't want everyone knowing his personal matters. "I may be crippled but I'm still not using any bedpan."

Jesus smiled as if he knew she was lying to him, "You're never gonna listen to me, are you?"

"But I thought that was part of my irresistible, badass charm?" joking as he accompanied her into the hallway.

Leaving him outside door with strict instructions only to come in if he heard a cat dying, Carol shuffled around the small, one person bathroom. The plumbing hadn't worked in the trailer for years, obvious by the bucket of standing water beside the toilet. Thankfully she hadn't had any food or much water in days, negating the need for such facilities. As she turned to the door, she caught her reflection in the dust sprayed mirror.

 _She stood in front of the mirror in her master bathroom, staring at the black eye and busted lip Ed gave her for burning the casserole. Searching the drawers through welling eyes, she grabbed a compact of concealer, worn down the metal plate underneath in the center, and dabbed the bruised outer corners. Her stomach flipped, looking down at the growing bump in her belly and resting a hand upon it, breaking down in a violent sob._

The door turned out into the hallway, Jesus was leaning his back on the beige wallpaper; he grabbed under her elbow to lead her back, waiting a moment before speaking.

"No cats?"

"No," she murmured through a pursed smirk, giving into the small snicker, "Were you coming to check on me earlier, make sure I hadn't run back to kill Negan?"

"It crossed my mind... but while putting Daryl to bed, I was given strict instructions to come back and make sure nothing happens to you or, _'I'd be lucky if I could eat that damn oatmeal'_. There's a lot more to being your and Daryl's messenger than I thought."

Carol couldn't help but let out a full laugh, clinging to her ribs throughout the humorous escapes.

"No, I'm going out before nightfall to the Kingdom... try to warn Ezekiel before Negan gets there." His words stopped her movements just before the door to the medical area.

"I'm sorry."

Daryl popped out of from the medical door, clearly distraught at the sight of an empty bed.

"And this is where I take my leave," Jesus smiled as he let go of her arm. Nodding at Daryl before swinging around towards the outer door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't," she called after him.

He was halfway out the door before she heard a boisterous laugh trail into the outside.

* * *

Daryl paced back and forth from each end of the room. "I swear when I get my hands on him, told him to keep an eye on ya," anger and fear and exhaustion were playing easily with his already short fuse; he was going to drive himself crazy or kill someone.

Carol grabbed his hand as he strode by - pulling herself in - inches away from their torsos touching, weaving her fingers between his. "Daryl I'm fine, I swear. Was just a bathroom break. Weren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Can't, too much to think 'bout. Plus it's too bright, middle of the damn day." his mind still working behind his overworked eyes.

"Well, there are other things we could do to stop you from all that thinking," the corners of her eyes turning up with her smirk, as she backed up to the bed. He had followed, still only a foot from her.

"Stop-"

Her hand dropped from his, falling back into old ways of thinking. "Not going to assault you, Dixon, I know I look like a train wreck. Was just gonna suggest laying down."

"S'not that ... you're gorgeous, can't nobody say different. Just…" his hair falling back into his eyes, " don't wanna hurt ya."

Carol stepped back into him, closer than they had been before, pushing his hair away to see the deep love and insecurity. "Then don't," her heart pounding as she again grasped his hand and backed towards the bed.

It took a minute to align themselves securely and comfortably on the tiny bed; Daryl turned sideways pressed against her back, laying on her undamaged shoulder. He pulled the blankets up to her chest, relaxing his arm over her middle. "You good?"

She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her, melting into his soothing warmth, feeling his nervous breath along the back of her neck. Carol moved her hand out from under the blankets to capture his, pulling it underneath both the covers and hoodie to lay flat against her abdomen. "Good."

Finally assuaged, his breath went deep with hers while rubbing his fingers in familiarity. She closed her eyes, feeling his heartbeat and breath steady, exhaustion taking over her own body. Falling asleep didn't feel like tumbling into a hopeless abyss anymore, it felt like safety.

"I love you too," she whispered before giving into sleep.

For once, things were right in the world they were at peace, but peace never lasts.


	9. Letters from the Sky

Daryl's eyes flickered open taking in the faded room around him; the emerging day's first light outlining edges and bends of the counters and furniture. They'd slept the remainder of the previous day away, undisturbed by both their pasts and well-meaning visitors.

The rise and fall of her body against his surged immeasurable happiness within his chest, leaning further into her to securely wrap his arm around her middle. He couldn't have imagined being here, with her, like this just days ago. Insecurities and limitations of his own doing kept him from going to her like they had all the times before; feeling like he wasn't good enough, that he would mess things up and lose the best thing to ever happen to him. But none of it mattered since that night.

Carol stirred emitting a faint hum, stretching her backside against his lap, coercing a groan he held back by biting his bottom lip.

"Mm, what time is it?" stroking her fingers up and down the top of his arm. Tiny fireworks following the line of her touch.

"Just 'bout dawn, go back to sleep." he whispered behind her ear, bending his forehead into the top of her hair as she strained unto him once more.

He could almost feel the grin on her mouth in the act of sighing freely, "Don't go getting any ideas, Dixon. A woman like myself in such a _fragile_ state, can't be party to your X-rated thoughts."

Daryl huffed before mumbling a muted stop, her usual suggestive teasing ramped up in light of their closeness. But he felt oddly bold laying next to her; maybe it was the physical reinforcement, or maybe the truth of feelings out in the open. He shifted his head down ghosting his lips down the back of her neck, watching goosebumps raise in response to his warm breath. Lips close enough to her flesh to brush over while taunting, "Ain't my fault ya keep makin' your way to my X-rated thoughts,"

"Where was all this all the times I almost died before?" Carol coyly laughed entwining her hand over his, leisurely coaxing it up her abdomen.

A blazing light flashed through illuminating the room, accompanied by a deafening rumble that shook the entire building.

* * *

Carol took in a deep breath, feeling gnawing pains along the edges of her ribs; Daryl's weight thrown completely over her, nearly knocking them both off the bed. His hands cupped her face pulling back, eyes searching that she was unharmed before survival instinct took over, making him run to grab his crossbow. Her body's intuition kicked in, dampening its reception to the soreness as she swiveled herself vertical and landed her bare feet on the cold floor.

"What was that?"

Daryl brought the crossbow to his sight-line, holding a hand up in the air back to her. "Stay here,"

Gliding down the empty dark hallway his reflexes primed for any movement, the scent of gasoline and burning permeated through the air. His hand pushed the wooden door ajar enough to get a glimpse of the chaos while still shielding him from being seen.

A car lay flipped on its side, outer metal darkened black and encompassed in flames and smoke; people were scattering in every direction, grabbing at any weapons they could find. A small object tumbled across the field feet away from Barrington before the ground beneath detonated, evaporating the neighboring man into a coarse spray of bloody tissue.

Daryl's pulse quickened and stomach dropped, Negan was done waiting.

He ran back into the room finding Carol rifling through a drawer, readjusting the seating of the sling on her shoulder. She turned immediately at his reappearance, eyes wild but focused; the tension easing back as her mind recognized him.

"They're throwin' grenades out there. Come on, gotta get ya someplace safe... " his gaze full of apprehension but his words focused. Reaching out to grab her hand, the warmth anchoring him while moving in unison into the black hallway.

"We can't just leave everyone behind... what about Rick, Michonne ?" she panted a whisper behind him.

"Went back to Alexandria while y'ere still out," his voice unchanging, still skulking against the wall, his crossbow trained forward.

"What about Sasha and Maggie, we can't just leave them trapped here?"

"They can protect themselves... it ain't about leavin' them it's about savin' you!" retorting loudly.

Carol slammed his shoulder back into the wall causing him to drop his weapon to his side, anger coursing out of his stare. "You listen to me, we are NOT leaving them behind. If they're trapped then we all are; it's not like I can go anywhere fast ... we don't leave people behind."

The ferocity of her words shook Daryl out of his auto-pilot attitude; inhaling intensely as another blast reverberated against the walls, his glance unveiling the trepidation behind.

"Can't lose you now... not after all t-" his words a little unsteady.

She clutched his free hand in hers squeezing tightly, knowing it insensitive to lie and say it couldn't happen. There were so many things she wished she could say and do at this moment, there wasn't time though and it would just make what was about to happen harder.

"Nine lives?" he breathed, touching his head to hers.

"Think we said five now... still better than one,"

* * *

The barely lit air buzzed with a choir of gunfire, explosions and screams. The gates to the Hilltop were battered in, massive splinters of logs strewn over most of the front yard. Saviors roamed everywhere, shooting at anything that moved while seeming to enjoy themselves. Daryl guided them to the left, behind the line of trailers; it provided them with more cover and a better chance of getting the upper hand on an attack. Fresh morning dew soaked the bottoms of Carol's sweatpants, sending a shiver of a memory to the forefront of her mind.

Daryl advanced to assess the opening in cover, spinning back flat to the metal wall as bullets whizzed passed, lodging deep in the wooden fence behind. Seconds later a scrawny Savior emerged sporting a Colt handgun. A bolt landed squarely in between his eyes, crumpling him lifeless on the ground within seconds, the gun dropping underneath his leg.

A second Savior rounded the corner before Daryl had a chance to reload, barreling his shoulder into him knocking them both down on top Daryl.

Carol's brief fear turned to sheer furor watching them tumble to the soil; the Savior punching him across the face before they launched into struggling for the man's shotgun, she slid her free hand in the lining of her sling, leaping towards the entangled men. Her shin cracked against the Savior's temple, flipping him on his back dazed before she withdrew medical scissors out of the sling and jammed them up under his chin.

Daryl lay on his side, tilting the shotgun at them, letting it fall freely, astounded. She smiled at him as she offered him help getting up; once on his feet he bent down and removed the scissors, creating a squelching sound. Carol picked up the Colt, tucking it into the sling almost like a purse. Wiping the blood on the dead man's chest, Daryl paused briefly before handing it back to her.

"Still like my knife better, but this will do," she smirked.

"A _fragile_ state, huh?" gathering the shotgun over his shoulder.

They stayed close to the trailers until they reached a large opening before the front of Barrington, large over-sized furniture laid broken along the expansive brick facing, windows crashed above. Carol tiptoed sideways up the expansive stairs, Daryl crouched peering into each window, judging the threat level.

"Well ain't this a surprise, you're supposed to be dead... Negan ain't going to like being lied to." came a voice from inside the foyer.

He could see Maggie standing unarmed with two Saviors, craning her neck as one pulled her head back by her hair. Daryl flipped his eyes at Carol towards the door as he moved closer to the side window; she understood, taking a step back and pulling her gun.

Daryl let out a quick-high pitched whistle, drawing the Savior's glares into the adjoining room, the main door hurled inwards at the force of her heel; she sent two shots into the chest of the Savior restraining Maggie. Daryl jumped up in the window frame blasting the other backward, spraying the rug a deep shade of red.

Maggie ran forward entangling Carol in a powerful embrace.

"Where's Sasha?" Carol finally managed to get out, pulling away from emotions she couldn't feel right now.

"I don't know, we woke up to the explosions and she ran out before I could follow."

Daryl emerged in the doorway. "I'll find her, just keep Carol safe, ya hear me?"

Nodding in response, Maggie looked him directly in the eye. "Like my life depends on it... but I don't think she needs me,"

Carol yanked the assault rifle from under one of the bloodied corpses, catching his amused look when she stood up, it was so full of pride and adoration. Then he was gone; dashed into the war zone outside of her grasp and protection.

Her heart began to race as panic rose from her belly. For the first time in days she couldn't feel his immediate presence next to her, and the terror of what could be began to slither back in her mind. She had prepared herself for the possibility of leaving him, even though it broke her in two; she was willing to throw down her life for him. But it had never been a thought that he felt or would do the same. No, she wouldn't let it happen; they had finally 'found' each other, they were going to be forever. Even forever wouldn't be enough.

"We need to get somewhere high with sight lines," she warned, unclasping the sling clip that held her forearm against her chest, her newly freed hand grasped the rifle's trigger.

* * *

Daryl sprinted across the main field, rolling twice over himself ahead of crashing to a stop with his shoulder on the undercarriage of a truck. The wheeling smoke clouds obscure his vision further than feet in front of the vehicle, shadowy figures danced back and forth, bullets ricocheted off the bumper shooting sparks into the dawn.

His mind fell back to her; he'd left her standing there without a word or touch, only his eyes mapping every inch of her perfection. The constant protector of their group, not willing to back down or run away leaving those she cared about in danger; she'd made everyone including himself better by knowing her.

Soft padded bounces with intermittent rings of tapping metal made their way in the disturbed soil, darting his eyes in search for the known dreaded sound. The grenade rested on its side just barely out of reach; without thinking he lunged taking it fully in his hand before slinging back, launching it back towards the wall. His mouth scraped as he landed, the taste of damp earth and blood swirled around his tongue; he hissed the concoction out curling up to regain his bearings. Hot burning seared above his left elbow as blood gushed ascending from a bullet graze to begin tarnishing the navy of his shirt; heavy black soled boots made their way into his scrunched view.

Simon's thick mustache and receding hairline arose out from the smog, lips pursed, eyes blackened from the lack of a soul; he cocked the slide of the Glock armed at Daryl.

"Just don't learn do ya?" seething savagely.

The shattering explosion of Simon's right kneecap surprised Daryl, not yet responding to the wet spray moistening his face before the sound of mushrooming air billowed in the air. His ears picked up the following thunderous blare as Simon's other knee buckled back, bursting into a stream of crimson that surrounded the now crippled fallen man. Another shot caused his strewn body to jump, a bloody circle on his chest slowly grew wider as his head fell to the side, eyes open. Daryl looked back at Barrington, making out two protective figures and small reflecting light on the top floor balcony.

A few Savior's pointed in Carol and Maggie's direction, gathering weapons as they launched into action. Daryl's protective rage pulled up his crossbow, landing bolts squarely through the meat of their necks; he hauled himself to the still warm bodies, retrieving the arrows trickling a trail of viscous scatterings.

Resounding cracks echoed from the rifle and handgun as the area before him is blanketed with bullet spray, bodies expeditiously fall all around. He turns again towards the blown open gate, weaving in a full run; he reaches the remainder of the weapons shed, picked bare down the nails.

His face is suddenly slammed against the wooden block, bouncing off to feel muscle wrap the front of his throat from behind. The shotgun slides to the ground, crossbow dropped in the corner from the impact; Daryl growls urgently through needy gulps for air.

A dark physique scurried along the wall out of the corner of his eye, his grip clawing at the meaty flesh throttling his neck. Jesus plummeted from above almost inaudibly, thrusting a knife into Savior's side; Daryl snaps free from the howling man and turns to see both of Jesus's hands on either side of the man's head, twisting forcefully letting out a large snap.

"Thanks," Daryl grumbled, rubbing his palm along the strain in his jugular.

Jesus's eyes gleamed a subtle smirk as he mentioned that finally, his dreams came true, eliciting a miffed scoff from Daryl, picking his weapons back up.

"Think ya could make yourself damn useful 'n get them?" pointing at the upper balcony of the broken down historic house; Maggie and Carol lent up to the columns, picking off retreating Saviors at will.

"They need it?" Jesus came back with a sarcastic quip as he began to jog in their direction. Daryl flung the crossbow over his back and slanting open the shotgun magazine, taking note of the shells remaining as he slammed it closed. Scattered movements lead him cautiously to the tree line outside the community's walls.

Minutes passed before Jesus reached the front door of Barrington, Carol bent down to regard him through the bars; his beard smeared with blood up the side of his face, scratches and scuff marks riddled the length of his leather overcoat, yet still a smile lit his face as he somewhat bowed.

"Me ladies- "

The ground shook beneath them, turning to see an enormous fireball erupt outside the gates, scorching any attempt at breath Carol sought to find.

* * *

She needed to move faster, her legs spinning under fueled by indescribable dread; she had lost sight of him after he reached the gate, smoke and flying bullets obscured her view before he'd disappeared. Sunlight pried over the horizon behind her, almost illuminating the field like a searchlight from above.

This was all her fault was all she could think; Daryl had wanted to leave with her the moment grenades started flying, but she insisted they stay. Why couldn't she have just left with him? Her decisions again were hurting the people she loved, but this time they may have cost her more than just a piece of her soul; it may have taken the whole thing.

Aching in her slung shoulder intensified, the kickback from the abundant rifle shots deepened the coloring of its bruising, all which could be for nothing.

Carol's feet finally stopped in the middle of open lawn; the trailing edges of her sweatpants drowned in muddy water and human fluids, chastely searching the vacant area for comfort. A Savior walker stirred inches from her bare skin; a bullet from Maggie's handgun burrowed deep into its skull, silencing the moaning.

"Don't you dare do this to me, Daryl," she privately whispered.

Early daylight brushed atop the broad shoulders that materialized moving through the destroyed gate's opening. Carol's heart almost burst out of her chest at the sight of his unkempt hair dampened by sweat, his shirt tattered behind the RPG he carried across him; all other surroundings faded away and she was dashing towards him. She couldn't breathe and didn't care; her pain had never felt this good.

Both dropped their armory feet away from each other; tears trailed down her cheeks as she stopped, chest heaving a small gasp of air, trying to decide if she was extremely relieved or

pissed at him.

"You're such an a- " she managed to begin before his unstopping advancement placed him close enough to shoot his hand around the base of her skull, hauling her forward, slamming his lips into hers.

Their lips moved both languidly and with enough passion to set her mind ablaze; it felt like saying everything they'd wanted to say, feelng everything they'd felt for years, it felt like being home.

Daryl pulled back, Carol's right hand tangled in his hair at the back of his head and her left pressed firmly against his chest; he bent his head to touch their foreheads.

"Ya know there's a damn tiger out there?"


	10. Come as you are

**A/N: Warning there are character deaths in here, one I am upset about; the others, not soo much. Also, kind of a bit of gore - sometimes in too much detail - and I can't stop the Negan language.**

Smoke clouds, dark as midnight, eclipsed the emerging sun. Bodies riddled the ground, some motionless while others re-animating with deadly intentions; all so saturated in blood it was all you could smell. Bewildered residents who'd survived staggered the yard almost like walkers; in such a state of shock.

His mind was centered elsewhere despite the horrors that surrounded, the sublime presence before him, held tightly within his hands trembled lightly as tears glistened on her cheeks. Daryl couldn't remember how he ever managed to pry himself from her for anything, let alone into an open field flying with bullets and grenades; how he got so lucky to always make it back.

The sound of a clearing throat made him aware of presences other than theirs. Maggie and Jesus came up from behind, both looking as they'd climbed through a dumpster in a slaughterhouse. He let his hold of Carol ease feeling the familiar twinge of inhibitions; her hand trailing down the built line of his arm as she stepped back, but not relinquishing contact.

"About damn time buddy," Jesus nudged, ripping off his spattered knit cap.

Maggie's eyes went wide at the approaching sight of Ezekiel leading a group of Kingdom soldiers, donning full body armor and some on horseback; all being lead by a prowling Shiva. The tiger snarled at the barely mobile walkers she passed, the end of her keeper's ponderous staff driving through skull until it reached the ground below. Massive canines flared into sight with an awe-inspiring roar as she stepped back taking in the foursome.

"It's alright Shiva... these people are friends, they mean us no harm. "Ezekiel's words flowed slowly through the exaggerated cadence. His silvering dreads rustled haphazardly when he brought his attention back to the group, eyes running up Carol in a way that made Daryl uneasy.

Daryl had never claimed possession of her, nor would he ever think to; she's no ones object to be paraded around like some damn trophy. Would be demeaning to what she has made of herself and to what they have together to go all caveman and drag her back to his lair.

Though he was still suspicious of 'the king's' intentions behind his darting movements, could feel his blood beginning to simmer within his veins.

A large, heavy-set guard dressed in a thick polyester red jacket fumbles past the showman and his pet, concern prevalent on his browned skin. "Oh my God, Carol, are you okay?"

"Jerry, I'm fine... nothing I can't handle," she answered in a plain, matter of fact tone, running her fingers down the inside of Daryl's arm to find purchase within his hand. If he didn't know her better, Daryl may have assumed she was sending a message; one that was received soberingly in Ezekiel's face.

"We must make haste back to the safety behind the walls of the Kingdom, you and your group are welcome to seek refuge with us again, Carol. There is plenty of room-"

"We still haven't found Sasha," Maggie interrupted, obviously as uninspired with the act as Daryl. Ezekiel's glare became hardened, shoulders straightened with his turn towards the woman of intrusion. It was obvious that he had become accustomed to his wishes being taken as word; the level of pushback he'd encountered since Jesus had brought Rick to him with their proposal was draining.

"Negan is sure to be readying another attack. We will send sentries once we have reached safety, and maybe we will receive favorable news from Morgan and Richard, whom I sent to spread caution to Alexandria."

Daryl's thoughts darkened. Ezekiel was right about one thing, Negan wouldn't just be sitting on the sidelines … only teaching a lesson to the Hilltop; it wasn't the way he operated. No, he'd go after both communities simultaneously, break whatever rebellious spirit had been brewing. If what had happened here was a forerunner, Rick, Carl, Michonne, Aaron, Tara; their family was in a bottomless pit of hell right now, with no lifeline to grab hold of. He may not agree with some of Rick's decisions lately, hell he'd wanted to beat the shit out of him, but he was his brother; in some ways more than Merle ever was. Carol squeezed his hand giving him an attentive look, unbeknownst to him he'd tightened a vice-grip around hers.

"Like hell we are, if she's out there we're gonna find her!" Maggie's tenacity unwavering.

Jerry advanced quickly in front of Ezekiel, raising both hands in the air in to attempt to command a respite. "I think we passed one of their trucks on the way in, was bookin' it like a bat out of hell."

Nice to know that this guy and his group were already proving so useful, Daryl thought to himself; letting them just slip through their fingers steps outside of an obvious attack. _What the hell had Jesus gotten them into?_

"Need ta go to Alexandria... Negan will be..." he trailed off, not wanting to picture what they would find.

"I think there's a vehicle somewhere here that you haven't blown up." Jesus tried to make light of the situation, but not getting a hint of an upturn in anyone's face.

Ezekiel stewed, trying to appease an agitated Shiva who paced below his feet. The man seemed more interested in his personal walking, three-hundred pound, rabid bodyguard; beginning again with his nose turned up before Daryl couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Ya wanna go back 'n hide then so be it but don't be thinkin' that all hell ain't about to reign down on your lil' fantasyland. Take what's left o' these people and pretend the sky ain't faillin', but ya said you wanted ta fight ... then man up 'n grow a damn pair!" he growled, Carol's frame leant into his side, pressing hard enough that she might be worrying he'd hit the unwilling leader. Her hand tapped the muscle just above his heart, trying to quell the emotional surge.

"We're going," her voice calming and steady, like there was never any question for them; her unwavering belief in him was more than she could know. Her eyes turned to Ezekiel, transforming before him into the tenaciously dangerous protector he'd seen take on the world. "Don't bull shit a bull-shitter, it's time to stop acting... there's still good in this world worth fighting for."

* * *

It was an eerily silent first few minutes to another car ride which blended together with all the others for Daryl; so much time spent running to or from disaster, barely catching his breath in between. The busted-up roofless jeep, laden down with as many weapons as they could scavenge from the wreckage, lumbered strenuously through its worn down mechanics. Wind whistled across his face, setting in the remnants of human tissue.

Carol's delicate touch brought marginal stinging to his arm, examining the still weeping gash from a missing bullet. He didn't pull away, allowing her the knowledge he knows she would seek even without his cooperation; she pulled out the scissors from her sling, cutting into the fabric on her sleeve before ripping it. Wrapping the tattered fabric tightly to cease the active bleeding, she laid her palm gently on it, the warmth spreading through the dampened material along his skin.

"Mm fine," he tried to assuage the tense appearance that has gripped her beautiful features.

She brushed back his hair, revealing the beginnings of discoloration and a speckling rash of skin about his brow, he watches her strain to hold back a small sigh as her concern deepened. Daryl leaned into her hand as it caressed his cheek. He wished he could take the worry from her; after all of her own pain she must be managing, his minor wounds should be the last on her mind. A particularly large bump on the back roads sent her curling to her mended side, wincing back a forced yelp.

"Let me see." Daryl moved his hands to open the seal of her hoodie, nearly making it two inches down before she halted him with a firm grasp.

"I'm fine." A statement she automatically mutters without thinking anymore.

Their gazes remained encircled in each other, his rough hands not easing their anchor on the cotton fabric against her chest. She can say it to herself all she wants, doesn't make it true or make him believe her; maybe he's gotten better at reading her, or maybe she used to be a better liar. Whatever it is, doesn't matter to Daryl, needs to know that she's as okay as she can be. A fluttering heartbeat quivered close to his knuckles, Carol's eyes leaving his and finding Maggie's in the rearview mirror.

"Eyes forward Greene," he ordered, the gravel in his voice noticeable. Carol's eyes made their way back to his, which now he could see were suffused with anxiety. He remains unrelenting as if penetrating into her very being, pleading with her to let go and let him take care of her for once.

The vibrations of the metallic zipper sunk into the meat of his finger, even if the sound was drowned out by the whipping wind.

The full weight of understanding coursed through Daryl as his eyes took in her now exposed frame. Her pale freckled skin defaced a deep purple and cardinal along her chest, creeping up her collarbone, almost kissing her neck before rolling over her shoulder. His stomach twisted under the recognition; she had been ashamed of him seeing her like this, of him being disappointed in the absence of perfection. Nothing could be farther from the truth, though. His gaze steadied as his calloused fingers copied the ridges of discoloration, lifting a little each time her body tensed inward with discomfort. The pain she was willing to sustain for them all, the lengths she would push her body until it broke; he was in such awe of her it broke his heart.

"There any blood?" her voice cut through as he peeled away one side of the medical tape. The stitches were holding around a puff of irritated skin, color deepening along the sutures where skin and muscle pulled back.

"Nah," he shook his head.

"Told you I was fine."

Daryl let out a light scoff, wrapping the hoodie back around her and drawing the zipper up almost to her collarbone. The back of his knuckles dragged along her neck, bringing his thumb across the back of her jaw, fingers resting in the nape of her hairline. "Think five is good... let's stay there." His lips pressed into the warmth of her forehead.

* * *

Almost all the streets of Alexandria were empty, not a soul in sight, alive or dead. Everyone kneeled in a line spanning several houses in front of Rick's residence; the remaining original residents of the community whimpering lowly under baited breath. Lucille swung low to the road, blood emanating from the end as Negan paced along, stepping over the body that laid battered on the ground.

"Ain't this just a hum-dinger... Anybody else gettin' a little deja-vu?"

Rick's head remained bowed as he shook uncontrollably, trying to bite back every urge he had to draw his Colt and blow the maniacs brains out. Dwight hovered behind, favoring his right forearm whilst holding a gun squarely on him; thirty or more Saviors laid in wait behind.

A devilish smile came from Negan, thoroughly enjoying the carnage he's created. "Now that son of a bitch looked like HELL, must of pissed someone off real good to take that sort of beatin'... which one of you sorry shits was it, hmm? I KNOW it ain't you, Rick... not your sort of 'leadership' style." He began to laugh lightly as a hand rubbed over his mouth. "Oh I know you know who it was, even if he wasn't yours; they practically already did my job for me."

Morgan looked up to regard Richard's beaten remains staining the pavement, quiet breaths quickening while his memories raced.

 _Daryl straddled Richard, relentless in the fury of punches landing about his face in the middle of the field by the stables. Sweat pouring from his brow, almost insanity behind his eyes. Morgan runs to pull him off of the nearly unconscious man, dodging wild arm swings that look to shake him before pushing Daryl far enough away to suspend his fury._

 _"Anything fuckin' happens... swear ta God I'll kill ya!" he spat to the bleeding body below._

"Doesn't matter, they ain't here," Rick bore into a prowling Negan with hatred in his eyes. Negan sucked loudly against his teeth.

"That mean it's Daryl? Where IS everyone's favorite domesticated redneck, he run off cryin' like a little bitch after my little movie starring his woman?"

Various glances from the line shot sideways towards Rick, confusion and uncertainty bleeding through.

"Now THERE'S a gal that can take a beatin' and still get dinner on the table on time. Damn, I already miss her... such a waste of a good killer instinct and ass. She wouldn't have done something as STUPID as try to come at me from behind, when my BACK was TURNED. Looks like I did ya another favor there Rick, weedin' out the stupid in your little coup; you're gonna need all hands on deck if you think your gonna take me on." He thrust strong kicks into the middle of Richard's body over and over; Michonne turned away in disgust.

Negan's breathing was erratic and labored as his sight floated over the kneeling party, "So what I wanna know is ... who'd you get to rain DOOM level bullshit down on us out there? There's gotta be consequences, they shot Dwight there and cost him his favorite Daryl collectible; you people nearly took a chunk out of his penis already for GOD'S SAKE. I think the man's earned a little retribution."

Dwight's teeth ground sternly while his eyes couldn't look at the maniac he'd sworn to follow. There was only so much poking one could take.

Silence thundered around the open air madness. Michonne peeked up into the group; Rick, Aaron, Rosita, and Carl's gazes almost challenging Negan's. Her mind swirled with weighing every outcome, every possibility; none of which let them make it out of here alive, they were too outnumbered. Fright shook her soul when Negan growled, taking large steps in towards the line.

"Someone better start talking REAL soon or a lot more people gonna be joining this asshole!"

"You already killed him." The words shot out of her mouth before her brain had a chance to process them. Rick looked at her in shocked, both knew this was a bad idea before it even played out.

"Bunch a fuckin' lying bitches you got here Rick," Negan shouted, darting over to Michonne, rubbing the bloody end of Lucille down her forehead and nose. "I'm disappointed, didn't take you for being this stupid... thinkin' I'd actually believe that that cowardice sack of SHIT would be able or FUCKING WILLING to unleash holy hell down, for you? Fucker was only out to serve himself!"

He raised Lucille over a stone-faced Michonne, who buried any sign of fear. "Sorry Rick, guess I keep takin' away all your nice things..."

Morgan vaulted to his feet in one motion, standing up tall and calm. "I did it, it was me."

An objectified criticizing glare befell him from Negan, tapping his fingers on the butt of Lucille and menacingly ambling towards the man now flanked by multiple armed Saviors.

Morgan recited all he could remember from what Rick had told him, "I rigged a car to ram into your truck, waited in the trees with a rifle and started picking you off one by one; almost shot you but someone got in the way..."

Silence fell again for a tense few moments, Rick and Michonne not wanting to breathe; Negan mulled over Morgan's words, his empty eyes unblinking as he stared blankly. He took a long inhalation of air, "Well it seems everybody's dropping bombs today... the black ninja-turtle, bleedy over there..." Pausing as the edges of his mouth curled noxiously, "me on the Hilltop."

Acid churned within Rick's stomach, overwhelming waves of nausea made him feel like he was going to heave any second. Maggie and the baby, Carol, Daryl; he'd left them all defenseless when they were in the greatest need, for what? For his own damn pride being injured because he'd made yet another mistake? Those people, some of the ones he relied on and trusted most; all gone because he couldn't man up and take the consequences.

"I REALLY hope you folks have another doctor laying around. Unless Dr. Carson's real good at climbin' out of a BIG. DAMN. DEEP. FIREY. FUCKIN' PIT ... I'm thinkin' you're gonna be in the market."

A sweaty, grit-covered man double-timed his way up the street from in between houses to reach Negan's side, standing nervously as he leaned into the listening madman, his words inaudible to anyone else. Negan's face rapidly flushed from a smirk to an empty, haunting deadpan; the subservient man returning from which he came at an ominous nod.

He raised Lucille flush to his face, noisily taking in a full breath, pivoting to slam the weapon down into Richard's corpse seemingly hundreds of times; spraying body tissue through the air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity FUCK!"

Negan swerved to bang his blood-soaked body into Rick's bent over posture. "SERIOUSLY?! Every time I think you can't do anything more ta PISS me off, you go to a WHOLE new level to prove to me just how brainless you fuckers are... did I not tell you there are rules?"

The Savior reappeared, totting an assault rifle in one hand while dragging a restrained woman with the other; her dark curly hair in a low bun, a bloody gash above one of her deep brown eyes and light brown skinned hands bound in front of her with thick rope.

"Anyone wanna tell me who this is?" Negan seethed. grabbing at the back of her neck and pushing forward.

Rising dread grew between Rick, Michonne, and Morgan; Sasha had been at the Hilltop. How did his men get a hold of her and what was she doing here?

"All I asked for was you not to lie to me... and you don't just do it once, but TWO FUCKING times. You think I'm gonna believe it's a damn coincidence that she's firing off at my people at Hilltop with THIS?" He motioned his head towards her weapon, still being held by the internally shaking Savior; the palpable anger from Negan reverberating into him. Time seemed to accelerate to an electric speed, the series of events happening too fast to stop or comprehend.

"You don't have to do this," Rick stuttered from his stupor, the terrorizing glare gone from his face.

"No, it was me!" Morgan called out, being pushed to the ground.

Sasha's eyes met Rick's, peacefully accepting her fate."It's okay," she mouthed.

"I really don't like doin' this, but you've left me no choice." Negan reached to his waistband under the leather jacket, extracting Carol's knife; yells from the group echoing as he shoved it into the back of her neck, the very tip emerging out the top of her jugular.

* * *

Carol watched as Sasha's form fell to the ground, heaving a few breaths while the blood pool surrounded her, all motion ceasing moments later.

This was her fault, he had used her knife to kill Sasha; if she'd not gone out and come into contact with them... maybe. Her head was spinning while she crouched hidden in her advantage point behind a block of solar panels, barely feeling the pressure of Daryl's shoulder against hers. His breathing ragged, almost at the breaking point of his rage, taking no notice to words coming from Jesus' mouth.

Shiva's roar initiated a melee of gunfire and shouts from the Alexandrian gate, drawing the attention of all - including the Saviors. Carol's mind snapped back to the present as a bolt flew from Daryl's crossbow, hissing past Negan's temple as he turned and anchoring itself in the eye of the parallel Savior, the man's grip releasing from the rifle as he fell. She followed suit, aiming and taking down three men behind their group before any of them could react.

If the gates of hell could open and the end of the world had not already started; she was sure this is what it would look like.

Jerry lead a band of Kingdom soldiers on horseback galloping into oncoming gunfire, smashing his oversized mallet into the heads of Saviors he passed. Michonne's katana swirled as she jumped up to both feet, blood spinning from its end as she moved through layers of foes; Morgan using the handgun Ezekiel had provided him as he made his way to his staff along the ground.

Rick chased forward with his Colt, screaming mindlessly as he fired at Saviors seeking cover; they ran into the onslaught of Shiva leaping through the air, claws and teeth shredding into soft, fleshy tissue. Ezekiel was not far behind, flanked by guards in body armor; one falling as a bullet pierced his skull.

Carol ran from her exposed position to behind a corner on a nearby deck, allowing her better sightlines into the war zone. She identified Dwight in the path of her assault, hesitating a few counts as she fought within herself, but finally pulling away and taking out the Savior advancing on Michonne.

Her concentration was shattered by a maniacal cackle to her right. Negan eyed her, advancing into a lunging swing of his bat, knocking in the side of the skull of one of her former neighbors.

Needing better cover to stop him, Carol leaped over the deck railing to turn in between the houses, only to stumble over Tobin's bullet-riddled body. She began to push back up as a boot sole pushed against her sternum; cascading waves of white heat blazed inside, stealing her breath.

Negan tore away the gun from her hands, sinking his boot into her side as he cackled."Damn, you're still alive? Such a BADASS ... I have never been more attracted to you, even with your face all screwed up." Her vision blurred from the pain riddling her body; he moved to hover over her with her knife ghosting through her hair. "Really is a waste."

A bullet seared through his shoulder, pulling a stream of blood along as it exited out the back of him. He rolled to his side, cursing obscenities; Carol moved with determination to get up and get out of his reach, her hand clamping down as hard as she could on the pistol in her sling. A blonde female Savior moved in behind her, lifting her armed limb to Carol and pursing her lips before the light from her face drained. Carol heard her drop, swerving around to see Daryl's wild eyes looking at her and an arrow protruding from the fallen woman's back. When she turned back, Negan was nowhere to be seen, only a small collection of blood sat feet away from her blood-caked knife.

* * *

The quiet was deafening. Strolling along the streets strewn with blood and bodies, Maggie knelt in an emotional heap over Sasha's lifeless body. Carol's family seemed unrecognizable to her as they move impassively through motions which have become all to common and familiar. She felt her pulse shaking her with each beat, the front of her head aching and light, her breath hitching as it quickened against her control.

Daryl's strong hand weaved behind her neck, drawing her eyes to his.

"Hey, y' okay?"

She didn't know how or what to say, still speechless when Rick emerged from somewhere close to them, bowing a few times before the words past his lips.

"We're headin' to the Kingdom … Dwight said to meet him there."


	11. Breathe me

The trees pass in a rhythmic succession outside the station wagon; each one just the same as the last, motionless and silent as they speak nothing of the heinousness they have bared witness to over and over. Carol stares out the window at them devoid of any feelings that she thinks she should have at this time. She doesn't know how she feels; empty, in a state of shock, still trying to process what just happened? All of this she has felt before when she pulled herself away, shutting down her emotions to manage the way life had become. Left her wading amongst the motions of every day, allowing herself to keep breathing without living.

Was she going back; into a dark hole where nothing or no one could reach her?

Her hand floated above her knee motionless, the air around it seeming to continually vibrate lowly, giving off the sensation she was shaking. Swallowing hard against the weight in her chest that could cause her to burst into tears or vomit in a given moment, every nerve tingled with electricity. Her head feeling weightless and loaded.

She doesn't want to keep breathing; every breath threatening to burst whatever blockage inside, but its absence magnifies the swells of anxiety billowing within.

Daryl has been watching her the entire time, can feel his eyes fixed on the side of her face; the pressure of his thigh next to hers, their entire sides connected. Doesn't say anything though, which she's grateful for, hasn't made a sound this whole time. She can't talk to or look at him, doesn't have the words or understanding to explain what's happening.

The heft of his arm brushes over her hip to land supportive pressure to the inside of her parallel knee, understanding it's as much of an embrace as she'll allow.

Maggie's frozen outline looms in the corners of her periphery, replicating stare out the adjacent back window amid puffy red eyes. Yet another person ripped away from her, chipping away at her boundless resiliency; every time leaving a mark on her soul, changing who she once was until there's nothing left. She shouldn't have to Carol thinks, too young to have been who she'd meant to be for long enough to condone it being slashed away.

Surging anxiety and chest pressure return her gaze onto the trees, focusing her mind on something... anything else. A familiar abandoned pile of scrap metal and construction supplies jump-start her ability to form words.

"Make a left up there after the burned out shop,"

Jesus's eyebrows raised, "The Kingdom's down this road, we just have to follow it round the bends."

"Not going there, we should go someplace safe... there's an abandoned house by a cemetery. It's safe and no one will think to look there."

Rick turned from the passenger seat, exhaustion setting in. "We're going to the Kingdom. Set up ta meet Dwight there, talk about our next move,"

"So we can be sitting ducks again?" Carol's voice deathly serious, her face moved towards him with no expression. "You think it's not the first place Negan is gonna come looking? We go to the house... we're safe, out of the way; suppose to be keeping the meeting under the radar aren't we? Dwight can come to us,"

"It's not your decision," exasperation in Rick's words

"I wanna go to the house," Maggie interjected in a subdued monotone without departing her gaze.

Rick twisted round to Daryl, hoping to find some sort of backing; Daryl beaming disagreement in return.

"Turn here,"

* * *

Once the wagon stopped she didn't wait for the others in following vehicles, moving past the fading wooden gate with Maggie inside; Maggie continued to where one of the back bedrooms was, closing the door behind. The house was just as she'd left it not more than two weeks ago, yet everything had changed.

Daryl pushed open the front door to stand in the opening, watching her automatically move into the kitchen. There wouldn't be much, she'd tossed most of the fresh produce Ezekiel and Morgan left her, although there may still be a few canned goods she'd scavenged for herself. Cupboard doors flew open in quick continuation; there had to be something, something she could do... she needed to do something.

"Hey, ya need to take a break. Haven't slept in almost a day," his voice hovering behind her as his hand rested atop hers on the counter.

"Can't, Maggie needs to eat something. It's not good for her or the baby- "

"Someone else'll get it... you eat anything?"

Finally one of the top cupboards yielded a few cans of vegetable soup.

"I'm fine," reaching up to grab one of the cans. Negan's boot resurfaced deep in her gut, buckling her over the counter to rest her chest over top it. Daryl's body pressed into her back, wrapping his arms round as he leaned his face to her ear.

"Carol, ya can't keep goin' like this."

Eyes still slammed shut, the pain slow to diminish; her words were low and almost pleading. "Please... I need to do this."

Others began entering the increasingly shrinking building as he held her in place for long drawn out moments; all to weakened and battered to pay any mind. He released an arm, reaching above to pull down a can in front of her, still holding on as her fingers ghosted his trying to grasp the bottom.

"I'll get the fire goin', just sit down."

Pulling out a chair from the nearby kitchen table, he waited for her to comply before heading to the fireplace in the front room.

He was worried and she knew it, but nothing was registering in her. The fullness behind her eye sockets continued to pulse, the electricity continuing to mound causing her twitch her fingers together. She shook her unbound hand and tucked it into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out her knife before she had time to think. Brownish red stains stared back at her as the tip of the blade rested on shiny silver metal.

That's how Daryl found her when he re-emerged; her eyes blankly staring at the unmoved blade, locked in a static cycle that didn't have an out. He moved in to grab it from her hand, wiping it repeatedly on a ragged rag from his back pocket, laying it on the table once clean. Kneeling beside her, his deeply concerned attention concentrated on her unblinking gaze, breathing her name.

"... I need to... I need another knife." Her body raises away from him, towards the nearby counters.

* * *

Her mind betrays her exiting the bedroom carrying a barely touched bowl of soup, the narrow presence of his posture behind the light, disheveled strands triggers roaring alarm bells. Shifty eyes dart up to meet her stare, churning her stomach instantly, burning the shattered bone ends in her shoulder.

 _Slamming onto all fours on the dampened frozen ground... the frigid air claiming her body... "Well well D, what kind of presents are ya bringin' me today?"_

Maggie glided a touch on her arm, passing by to come to rest next to her, moving her back to reality. A tingling hum remains in her head as Daryl's shift in stance against the fireplace takes precedence; it's like looking at a mirrored reflection. He stands with muscles tensed, looking uncomfortable but not willing to move, his breath flows with a loose shudder while his eyes move lowly along the floor; full of an empty bide. She knew where he was; cold, beaten, terrified, alone in that cell. They're both in private hells, surrounded by people, nonetheless worlds apart.

Rage seeped up over her veil; her pain was bearable, acceptable... his was not.

"Surprised you're still alive," Dwight chuffed.

And just like that, she disappeared behind the facade that had proved capable in the past. Burying her breaking to the corners of her mind, rallying diminished levels of strength to hold up those who could not. She pressed into standing straight, shoulders back, her fixation now cleared on the filled room before her; her voice reinforcing with obvious disdain.

"You're lucky you still are."

Rick motioned to the brimming cabin's living room, "Can we get started?"

The group of people curiously gathered together, however, scattered in the room, looked like something she's seen in an old history book. Rick occupied a patterned ornate armchair with Michonne standing beside, Dwight moved to sit on the side-lying couch populated by Maggie and Ezekiel; the king leered, not giving an inch of his position as Dwight slunk past against the armrest. Jerry puffed his chest behind, extracting a jerked glance from the Savior and a smirk from Jesus. Daryl didn't move from the fireplace, seeking Carol with his eyes as she sat herself half on a chest near the door, one leg still rooted to the ground. The fire crackled in the awkward silence, lighting the dimming scene in the fading afternoon light.

"How long do we have?" Morgan broke from his dining chair, watching as he rubbed his own hand. "Until Negan makes another move."

Dwight shrugged "Don't know, could be anytime. Negan doesn't follow any set plan, he does what he wants-"

Carol tuned out from what he was saying, even if she could pretend to care, which she didn't. Dwight was full of excuses that hinged on false promises. Daryl had told her one sleepless night at the Hilltop while trying to grapple with his demons; the things he had seen at the Sanctuary, about Sherry and the iron, the reasons Dwight was who he was. She could understand that, but that's not who she'd seen.

It didn't serve anyone else when he shot Daryl, when he'd put a bolt through Denise's eye; or when he made the choice to tell Negan that night who she was to Rick, to Daryl. He was supposed to be working 'with them' to take Negan out, and the first chance he got he sabotaged any strategy they might have. He wasn't doing anything for someone else, he was doing it for himself.

"And we're just supposed to take your word on it... where does Negan think you are now?" Michonne's word broke into her thoughts.

"Got separated yesterday when things went crazy,"

Cut short by a profoundly serious Jesus "You mean when you were trying to kill us?" Daryl let his lips batter against each other as an exclamation of air flowed through.

Dwight bowed his head lowering his gaze before continuing, "With people being everywhere and shit hitting the fan, they were leaving anyway they could... happened plenty of times before. Gone out on my own and made my way back, easier ploy now being shot and all." He tilted his covered bandaged forearm outward as he shot his eyes at Carol.

"You had something that didn't belong to you, still do," nudging her look to the leather vest across his shoulders.

He chuckled openly in hostile territory, "Seriously, you're gonna tell me I got a hole in my arm for playing with your boyfriend's toys?"

Daryl jumped up from his bent over posture on the fireplace, daggers shooting at the man before Carol held a hand up to him. "At least I had a reason... wanna remind me what your's were supposed to be?" her rage cleaving with intentional insolence.

"Carol, that's enough." Rick clamored.

She sat back in a state of shock, exchanging looks of disbelief with Daryl and Jesus. After everything that had happened, Rick was going to take the side of someone had no fucking idea what it meant to put someone before himself? Dwight couldn't, he'd never know the truthiness; every single thing you are becomes for that person.

Fighting back her body's urge to shake as increasing anger mingled with teeming anxiety, she retreated back inside her mind from the evolution in the house; safer for others for her to be trapped there with marked emotions than to let them out.

Minutes passed before she could make out Ezekiel proposing they fortify the Kingdom and await the next attack that was sure to come, take advantage of pooled resources and succeed with a blowback. Others passed judgment and opinions; words of not waiting around to see if they die, obviously from Daryl, perturbed the Kingdom's leader to rise to his feet displeased.

"Well, I suppose you would have us go in beating people's brains in and ask questions later? If Richard were still with us,"

This time he made it fully away from the stonework, face scrunched with anger his arm every inch extended with a finger pointed. "Fuck you, he wanted ta kill Carol." Jerry moved his imposing frame in front of his advances, Daryl smoldering to the point he almost didn't look like he cared what size obstacle lay in between him and Ezekiel. Michonne and Jesus stood un-moving nearby as they waited for Daryl's retreat.

A large sigh escaped Maggie, regarding only Dwight. "IF... if we move on the Negan and the Sanctuary, do you have our backs?"

* * *

The dimming room began to clear, Morgan had gone back with Ezekiel and Jerry to the Kingdom, Maggie retreated back into one of the bedrooms; Carol sought to find Daryl, already feeling his unseen watch upon her. Her sights found him amid an almost amiable conversation with Jesus though his eyes came to find her multiple times, her tiring of maintaining the facade obvious to him and would soon draw him over. Not yet, she still had things to take care of.

Dwight slanted on a door frame that led to a hallway connecting to a back door. She met his stance on the opposing edge of the door, not turning to look at him, already seeing she had his attention as well as both Rick's and Daryl's.

"You may be true to your word and I pray that you are, because if there's one thing I want you to understand about me; I'll do ANYTHING, blow up heaven and earth even if I burn to protect the people I love." Shifting her focus to face him, "You double-cross us? There's nothing that Negan could do to you that would come close. Negan underestimated me before... look how well they worked out for him."

Dwight's eyes moved over her shoulder, finding Rick's antagonized character; the man's eyes unblinking, teeth held firmly together behind closed lips. Dwight nods to Rick, a glare landing on Carol as he moved through the opening.

"Leave the vest by the back door," as Dwight moved a few steps behind, her voice serious as it was deadly.

Rick stepped before her, keeping his voice low but chastising. "What are you doin' Carol? We need him to help us... the only way this works is if we do it together."

That was the final straw to the billowing emotional surges within, dropping the mask to be replaced with a torrent of anger that surprised her but couldn't be restrained. Not even trying to keep a lower than a reasonable conversational level, "Funny how you're opinions have changed since the prison; the Rick I knew would have thrown out anyone he'd believe to be a 'danger' to his family."

Aaron appears from one of the back rooms enclosing the remnants of their group, corralling a bumbling Judith into his arms, falling back without a word.

"That's not what he meant," said Michonne costively, stepping in with a mitigating expression. Carol could see Daryl's attentions were drawn to the scene unfolding, she grabbed her knife moving to brush past, to be alone before it all came crumbling down.

"I need to get some air,"

"We need to talk 'bout this," Rick caught her arm, turning her around.

"What do you wanna talk about Rick? About what it's like to care for someone's family like your own, and then have them use you right to your face?" Her breath shaking now; it was all pouring out, every angry, pissed off, fed up thought in her head without a filter. The racing of her heart seemed to accelerate what was happening, it needed to happen fast before Daryl finished making what she knew was already his way over. "About what it feels like having your shoulder smashed in? What it feels like to have someone shove a tube into your chest while you're conscious to keep you alive?" Her glance moved to the Bowie in hand, rotating it slowly as it captured and pulled the pain past the anger. "Or about even after all of it... it doesn't make a Goddamn difference?"

Striding towards the door she didn't wait for an end to his agape silence, didn't respond to Michonne calling after her or to the arrival of Daryl's being as she vanished out the front door.

The cool grass beneath her feet in the cemetery wiped away the remnants of what she could only assume to be Tobin's blood; there was death on her, under her and walking around her. Moving as fast as she could before the spinning in her head slowed her advancement, her lungs gasping for air ahead of finishing the previous intake; the stinging twister in her chest spinning so wild it set all the nerves in her body ablaze. She gripped the handle as tightly as physically possible, trying to push the fullness behind eyes anywhere else as her breath hitched.

His body slammed into the back of her without warning, steady arms wrapping round her middle and across her chest.

"S'okay, just let go."

The permission was all she needed. Heaving sobs exploded into the night air, the knife fell to the ground as she crumbled unto him; lowering beautifully to a single curled heap. Her heart aching for things she's long lost the words to find, tears spilling over them into the ground, growing tormenting memories back to life in present day.

 _His face outside her front door the night he found her._

 _The thought of losing him after the destruction of Hilltop._

 _Every blow fighting for her life that night._

 _Everything about that night._

 _Glenn, Abraham, Sasha._

 _The house in the grove; Micah and Lizzie chasing each other around the open field of flowers._

Daryl never let go of his hold, embracing her tighter with each crest; riding it out alongside her as whimpers flowed back to wails, the night setting in leaving them alone in her sounds.

* * *

Carol awakens in a bed in the spare bedroom of the abandoned house, a hand-woven blanket draped over her, an assortment of fruit and bread lay on a plate resting atop the covers at the foot. Doesn't know how she got here, but the full, puffy feeling beneath her eyes and tacky, dried lines down her face bring the remembrance of last night into the streaming light coming through the windows.

Daryl perches silent in a small armchair, not meant for more than resting while getting dressed; giving her a weak smile as she turns towards him.

"What...how'd we get here?"

"Ya passed out after a while out there, had ta check ya were still breathin' before I brought ya back ta sleep it off." The pang of him believing she died from breaking down out in the cemetery almost renews her tears. He crosses the room in a second, sitting beside her to cradle his hand against her face. "Hey, ya needed ta rest, been doin' too much... been through too much."

His thumb cleaned her building tear; Carol closed the gap between them as she feathered her lips up to his, soaking in the safety. The lightness in which he kissed her back was such difference from the unbridled need of the first, she took the opportunity to sustain their connection.

When she eventually pulled back his eyes met hers under low lids, exhaling a long soft string of air. "Need to eat somethin', Carl fended of the masses 'n brought things over...better than runny wheat." motioning to the plate on the bed. The mention of others than themselves brings about the realization to Carol of how they are alone in one of only two bedrooms, and the lack of availability of decently sized furniture.

"What about Rick and everyone else?"

"Told'm ta fuck off for a while,"

She purses her lips tilting her head; he loves the way she looks when she isn't falling for the crap he's shoveling.

"Maybe not 'n so many words," he tossed a chunk of pear into his mouth, slicing another and handing it to her; the corners of her mouth upturn before joining him in their 'meal'.

Her stomach feels like an overblown balloon after just eating a few chunks of dense bread and the majority the pear; side effects of the almost dying in the apocalypse diet. Burrowing herself back against the pillow and tugging the blanket back up to her, stains scattering the sweats she's wearing catch her attention, the fleeting elation disappears from her expression. Daryl rubs her knee over top the quilt.

"Still got some'f yer clothes here, can get Maggie if ya wanna change?" Rising towards the door.

Carol stops him with an annuling sound, raising herself from the bed making way to the closet. She grabs pants, a shirt and micro twill sweater she's never seen before and places them on the chair he once occupied; Daryl's eyes following her every move.

"S'okay," she reassures as she un-clips the sling turning her back to him.

Her own arm supports the other as the sling drops freely to the ground, his hesitant hands pull slowly at the hoodie's zipper from behind; impulse and cool air litter her exposed skin with goosebumps. Coasting the fabric from her shoulders, his hands caress down the line of her sides along her back, the warmth of his touch and breath expand her chest in reply. His hand clutches the newly obtained shirt to between her breasts, waiting for her to make a move.

"Lizzie killed Mika. Thought walkers were people and she'd come back, didn't understand... she would've done it again, wanted to with Judith." She doesn't know where the surge to open the darkened corners of her heart came from and why'd it happened now. But she was now truly bare in front of him, in all ways. "I shot her,"

Daryl's head nestled along hers, pulling her into him, kissing her temple and letting his lips linger.

"It was stupid what you did, coming up behind me like that. I could have hurt you," Carol's voice cracked a little, thinking of what had been and what could have.

"Ya wouldn't never hurt me... I know you."


	12. We're still here

He watched her mind roll through the onslaught of emotions she'd bottled in the corners of her soul; three days later and the influx periods of debilitating, un-moving silence still crept in. His heart broke to see her penetrating blues glaze over, if out of nowhere, stripping away her smile. Daryl could even tell when the nightmares stormed within her sleeping body unbeknownst to her thoughts; the increased quiver of a heartbeat settled close into his flank, almost pulsing flinches of nerves under his cheek atop her hairline, the way her breathing became shallow and muted. He prayed it never happened while he was deeply asleep, but no one was that lucky anymore.

She'd tried to keep the mood light during the lulls of calm, for both his benefit and in an attempt to retain her sanity; catching him off-guard with attentive touches amidst mundane activities, purposefully trying to fluster him. It was a tortuous dance. Wanting to be as close to her as he wanted to, as she'd wanted him, but needing to protect her against anyone and anything; even themselves.

He couldn't let her bury it under their feelings, she needed to feel it.

The bed stirred alongside of him as Carol shifted further into the crook of his arm, her warm breath trailing down the bareness of his chest. In the darkness of the night behind fastened curtains, barely noticeable imperfections were shrouded, allowing his gaze to drink in her exquisiteness without consideration of his exposed back. Her eyes lay softly closed as her chest loafly expanded more so than he'd recalled in days.

Wanting to remember every aspect he traced the curved edge of his index finger gently over the ridge of her nose, ghosting to the blush, soft meat of her lips.

If he was dreaming he never wanted to wake-up.

* * *

The early mornings were always the easiest; her thoughts still fuzzy enough to keep away raw emotions, focusing on the glow from the man alongside her. He looked exhausted from the last night's watch only hours before, his face buried equally beneath unwashed hair and a folded pillow, out cold to the waking house around them.

She needs to get up and moving, she thought, try to find something in the house substantial to eat which hasn't already been devoured; one can only live on fruit and bread for so long.

They had managed to catch a few rabbits the day before, the surrounding graveyard teeming with them more so than she remembered being; though before she didn't have Daryl Dixon. She'd tried to encourage him into venturing further on his own in an attempt to bring back larger game and give him a much-deserved break as her keeper, but he'd hear none of it. He hadn't let her out of his proximity following her 'breakdown'. Even less so when she and Rick were in the same room. Neither she nor Rick had said a word to each other, just the exchanging of awkward looks with heads ducking or eyes falling downward; she wasn't sure what'd she would even say to him. Once upon a time, he had even respected her unapologetic candor. The timing may have been wrong but she wasn't sorry for what she'd said, for standing up for herself.

Carol reluctantly extracts herself from their intertwined limbs coming to rest upright on the edge of the bed, glancing back over her shoulder at the sight that brings a smile to her face.

His entire upper body bared to the sharpening light of the morning, the hem of his jeans calling attention to the lines of his abdomen; she bit her lip and let her mind wander back to that night.

 _Maggie and Jesus materialized in the silent midnight hours in the kitchen as Carol rose from the table, handing over the rifle and squeezing the other woman's arm. Reaching behind she grabbed one of Ezekiel's pomegranates and set it against Maggie's open palm, who shook her head pushing back the fruit._

 _"Don't make go queen bitch on you," she coyly smiled, returning the pomegranate back into Maggie's resigning grip. Daryl moved in with a hand resting on Carol's lower back._

 _"All quiet on the western front?" Jesus asked. Daryl returns an affirming grunt, headed for the back room. "Try to keep it down back there," a muted chuckle broke._

 _Daryl's left shoulder rotated, offering up a lone middle finger._

 _The moment the door clicks behind them she locked her lips against his, feeling his hum vibrate through his migrating hands behind her neck. Languid movements heightening when the tinge of her tongue moves across his bottom lip, being immediately enveloped by his, following into her mouth. Determined fingers begin working on the buttons of his shirt, pressing deeply against the exposed flesh underneath; shaking the remainder of the material loose as he strains her back to him. Just as abruptly as it started he pulls back, throwing his head back with an exacerbated growl, returning his forehead softly to hers. "We really should get some sleep."_

 _"You're a damn tease, Dixon."_

Carol replaces the rigging of her sling back to its correct positioning, refusing to fasten the clasp that held the arm to her chest; she couldn't get anything done being so restricted, more of a hindrance than anything. She wanders to the foot of the bed, picking his crumpled shirt up off the floor.

He deserves to have a few more hours of peace, there's nothing about breakfast she can't handle alone.

Something shiny slides to bounce off the hardwood from the outstretched garment; the long beaded, metallic chain coils upon itself, leaving the gold sharpened cross out like a rejected sign. Her peripheral vision tightens with the fullness behind her eyes, stomach twisting, the sensation of warm liquid coating her hand and dripping down to the wrist.

* * *

The sound of listless shuffling giving rise to knocks in the hallway wall alerts Michonne from her resting point within the bay window, securing her sword from its sheath as she creeps towards the sonance. Passing sleeping members of her family, her heart raced in expectation of the worst; walkers broken in, or had Negan's men found them, had they been double-crossed?

When the sound ceased inches nearby in front of her, she inhaled raising the sheen towards the ceiling, hurtling within the uncovered area to be jarred paralyzed.

A silhouette of a woman leans occupying space in the hall, tenantless eyes sluggish to focus on stimuli as her nails dig into the core of the micro twill sleeve. Her silver curls scrunched in between plaster and scalp; chest shaking three or four times with each breath taken.

"Carol? Carol, come... sit down." Taking her in hand to the kitchen table, hulling her weapon to attend to the empty reflection of her friend. "You want me to get Daryl?"

"No, he doesn't need to deal with this... I just need a minute." sharply replying, bringing her touch to her temples. The pounding fullness wound down to the base of her skull, towing waves of nausea from her stomach's lining; all she could think to do was fixate on the movement of air through her lungs.

Michonne's hand came to rest upon her wrist, "Carol, you can't live like this... it's going to kill you."

"Hasn't yet in the fifteen plus years since I started up with Ed," a miffed muffle crawling out from her covered face. The unmistakable sentiment of someone's eyes laying upon you settles into her soul, unrelenting for minutes before she frees her face, groaning at the increased gravitational pressure.

"When I first came to the group, do you remember how I was? In my own little world surrounded by walls, not letting anyone in, not wanting to be a part of this. I was just surviving," Michonne stared directly into her without relinquishing contact to Carol's wrist. "Didn't want to feel nothing, it was easier that way. After losing my family, my son; caring only brought more pain."

Carol watches Michonne's eyes finally break; their shared pain of losing a child only just now becoming known to her, tears welling behind both sets of eyes.

"But still you guys found your way in, made me see that I couldn't do it on my own, that I didn't have to. It made me stronger because of it."

"Was never about not being able to care, I couldn't stop... couldn't stop caring," her fingers begin to play in the grain of the wood, putting some physical sensation to what's running through her head. "I had something I loved and couldn't live without, and this time, I was able to do something to protect it; but what I was willing to do-"

Another comforting hand came to curl around hers, weaving together a clutch filled with fierce understanding. Michonne tossed her head slightly to the direction of the living room. "There is nothing I wouldn't do in this world for those people; for those two kids dreaming in there. I'd throw myself on a herd of walkers if it meant they would live one more day. I know you feel the same; the way Judith looks at you, like you bring the sun out each morning."

Carol's heart throbbed. That innocent little girl, Maggie's unborn child; they shouldn't have to see what awaits them in this world, what people are prepared to do to each other.

"But it's not only me that gets hurt... the things I've done, people still die."

"We don't get to know if what we're doing is right in the moment, we just have to wait and see. I've never questioned your motives behind anything, you've always done everything for everyone else. I trust you with my life."

A nonchalant laugh escapes her chest, carrying away some of the crushing tension with it. "You talked to Rick about that? Not sure what I am according to him anymore; a liability, an emotionless hired gun?" Apparently, she still had some pent-up anger.

"Rick's a man; he thinks of things how he thinks they ought to be, you see the way it needs to be. He does care, he's just been treading water for so long and now with Negan, he's simply trying not to drown. It's better when I make him confide in me, especially when he doesn't want to... you talked to Daryl?"

Carol closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I can't even deal with the things in my head sometimes... how can I ask him to take that on?"

"You're not asking. You two are stronger together, he's not going anywhere so let him help,"

She knew Michonne was right, her drained emotional state was wrecking them both mentally and physically. It couldn't go on. Feeling her legs ground back with strength below her, she moved from the table to go back to their room. The touch on her wrist contracted.

"You're not some monster... you're just human, imperfect like the rest of us." The corners of her mouth turned upwards along with her shrugged shoulders. "Sorry."

"Pretty imperfect to be having dreams about talking to Merle Dixon," her own smile enlarged tenfold by the sheer shock and awe of Michonne's expression. Carol raised her eyebrows "He was actually pretty helpful."

The long pause was fragmented by a roaring fit of laughter pouring out from both women, drawing tears from their eyes and eliciting movement and murmurs from the adjoining room. They managed to quell the brief hysteria, Michonne speaking as Carol squeezed her hand once more in gratitude. "Promise me you'll take some time; not go anywhere, but just try to remember how to breathe again?"

Only feet from the room the bedroom door flew open, Daryl positioned frantic in the opening, his shirt half-open and misaligned. He pounced, throwing his arms around her neck, towing her down into his chest against his battering heartbeat. "I'm sorry, should've never picked it up. Grabbed it the night I thought I'd lost ya, wasn't thinking... thought you'd left again." His skin was vibrating; she secured his head on her shoulder, massaging into the roots of his hair.

"Hey shhh, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm still here."

* * *

In the early evening, they headed into the enclosing fields. His hand linked in hers, both their weapons secured over his shoulder; despite her insistence to differing grunts. If humanity was dead, at least Daryl was keeping chivalry alive.

She had no plan for where they were going or what they were doing, and for a few hours, she planned on not caring. Carol wanted to appreciate the little things in life; the way the sun shone between the overhanging leaves, the peacefulness in silence, the warmth from Daryl's hand that radiated up her arm. His heart so honest and caring, she wondered how she'd been the one he'd chosen to love and be next to her after all that she'd done.

As if he sensed her unease he pulled her closer to him, draping their arms around the back of her middle. She sighed happily, letting her head fall back into the crook of his shoulder; they moved in silence, nothing else needed to be said.

The forest opened to a clearing encircling a small, yellow, single-story cottage. Wildflowers rose through the deadening foliage ground cover in a last attempt to bloom before the frost. Daryl's banging on the crumbling siding produced nothing but distant bird songs, handing over her rifle before opening the door, moving effortlessly in sync to clear the empty building.

Carol headed straight for the teenie, dismal kitchenette opening up every drawer and cupboard; she found only a few canned vegetables, leaving the pickled onions where they lay. She turned when finished to place a small bottle of hot sauce into her collecting that Daryl was already piling in his bag, pausing with a skeptical look at the condiment. "You'll thank me when Maggie starts having cravings," as she tossed it in, jabbing her elbow against his back. "Oh my God, I always wanted one of these."

He turned to observe her standing next to a long, bowed in the middle, overly plush chair looking thing. The pillows on top of it were covered in a fabric that even he could tell was twenty years out of date.

"Ya wanted a chair?"

She playfully batted his arm with the back of her hand. "It's a chaise lounge, thank you very much. It's like a couch, recliner, and chair all in one. Never was able to afford one on my own when I was younger, and when I married Ed we didn't need to be spending 'his hard earned money on useless crap'. Funny that it takes the end of the world before the universe will give you what you want." Letting her body fall unceremoniously to atop the piece, she stretched out letting her hip turn slightly inwards to swivel the lines of her body.

"We could just take it back ta your place, gotta be more comfortable than that damn kid's chair in the corner," he tried unsuccessfully not to stare.

Carol slid over to one side, patting the open space next to her. She relaxed her head back along the exaggerated back as he slid beside her, moving around a couple times before seeming to get comfortable enough. The palpation of fingertips inside his forearm spun his face to find hers.

"That isn't my home," her blue eyes boring into him. "My home's where ever you are."

"What are we doin'?" he whispered. pressing their foreheads together.

"... breathing."

The softness of her lips road out the response offered by his, moving overtop with a palpable restraint that implored her to increase her fervor. Leaning her body to his, her restrained arm tangling its fingers amidst his shirt, one of his leaving its positioning to find purchase behind her head. She hummed instantly as his tongue glided along hers; teeth traipsing the flesh of his bottom lip with desire. His breathing picked up, but was overshadowed by the drawn-out rumble he let out as his rough palm picked up pace gliding against her pelvis. Seizing the opportunity she looped her fingers under the length of his belt rolling them over to her straddled above his waist, releasing her grip only to slide her fingers along the inside of his shirt. His eyes rolled back behind his closed lids, he was losing any resolve he may have.

"I'm fine," she urged, deepening the kiss, releasing tingles each brief moment they separated.

"Prove it."


End file.
